March 17th, 2014



I brought something unpleasant back from England and my head feels like a pressure cooker filled with slime, unspeakable slime. Staying home today, doing work related stuff that doesn't pay but must be done. Ugh. Yuck.

We had the obligatory nightmare trip problems on Friday after things going mostly well before. Got on tube in Belsize Park with an hour and a half in hand before train to Manchester Airport from Euston. Just four stops, what could possibly.... Train motionless. "We'll be going in a few minutes." The announcer grew more and more optimistic for twenty minutes until he announced that no, things were stuck, completely and horribly so. Everyone trying to get taxis and buses, us with luggage and kids. Time passing, trying to think what we could do. Train tickets booked a month in advance, cheap and unrefundable. Full buses crawling by, and would we even know how to get to Euston station anyway? But at what seemed like the last minute we got a taxi, got to the station in time to see that... Well, you can guess every step in this story. Late trains, missed connections, cancelations, persons on the line, everything I had expected, then got cocky about avoiding, crammed into one evening. It was like Zeno's paradox by the end, on the slow, stopping train from the most inaccessible platform of Manchester Picadilly to the airport.

Next day, everything was back to being dandy again. Except that my squeezible Marmite was confiscated - 3 oz of suspicious gloop showing up on the x-ray machine. "I'd kill meself if they took my Marmite," joked the x-ray operator. Ha ha. Quickest pass through customs in Chicago ever, measured in minutes rather than days - except we had allowed four hours between planes after previous horrors, so that was a drag....

(But anyway. A good week. Nick got to meet his grandparents for the first time, Miles for the first time since he learned to walk. Six years is too long, but.... Transatlantic travel is a different kettle of fish when you've got kids and precarious employment. And don't want to be that family on the 8 hour flight with the screaming kids. Which we weren't....)

Cough. More later. Ugh.