So in no particular order:
I'm here --- here being London, where I am staying temporarily with a very old friend Stellou (who used to write this blog) and her husband. The advantages to this arrangement are many, of which freshly cooked homemade dinner every night is certainly not the least of them. Tonight, however, we'll be going to Chinatown for roast duck at the legendary Four Seasons (not the hotel chain, the Gerrard Street institution). This is not on my account; the dinner plans were made with Stellou's friends before I showed up. I am merely a tagger-along.
I am not too badly jetlagged (yes, famous last words, I know) because first of all, I was sleeping odd hours that were almost in sync with London time before I left, and secondly, I slept for most of the flight, thanks to a surprise upgrade to business class. How do you get upgraded to business class without asking? My experience:
- Show up at the airport damn early --- in my case, 2.5 hours before the start of check-in.
- Enquire politely about the possibility of dropping off your luggage (I'd already completed online check-in).
- Let the ground staff mention the U-word and beam appropriately.
- Be polite and smiley and obliging --- even when the ground staff says something about "making yourself more presentable" for business class. (Most friends I've told this story to, have been particularly stunned by the choice of the word "presentable".)
So since I got here, I've been walking around, getting used to the little nuances of how Londoners do things, occasionally tweeting, and generally getting through the psychological shift that comes with being plonked down in a new environment and knowing that you're not leaving for a while.
Still, the thing about being here for only a year is that I can't help feeling like time is ticking away already.
Edited to add (12 September): Oops, the title of this blog post should read British Summer Time. Can you tell I'm new in town?
Labels: London bound