I'll let you in on a secret: I'm moving to England.
Oh, wait, you've heard me mention that before?
It's currently two in the morning and I'm wide ish awake after a really, really long day. I left my hometown on Monday morning after a few quiet days just saying goodbye to friends and family and packing my bags. Up above are a couple of pictures of my last day home: mom's coffee in the morning, the pumpkin marmalade I ended up not using on my toast (massively regretting that decision at the moment), dozens of birds (Grosbeaks, I think my mom called them?) on the bare trees in our backyard. Then there's Kiwi napping, mom making freshly squeezed clementine juice for our breakfast and a few pictures of my last supper at home, featuring amazing spaghetti and a chocolate cake I baked that afternoon.
I came to town to say some more goodbyes, hung out with good friends one last time for quite awhile and then met up with my parents.
Then came the problems. Flight delays, flight cancellations. Impossibly long wait times to speak to airline representatives. In fact, I have been on hold the entire time I've been putting this blog post together. I know, I know, it's all par for the course this time of year what with Canada's unpredictable and terribly inconvenient winters. But still, you must know the feeling of being excited to get somewhere and then being told nope, you can't.
Long story (and quite a few tears, I won't lie) short, I arrive in London two days later than originally planned. Not the end of the world. I still have one flight to rebook, and I'm hoping I wont have trouble doing that - fingers crossed, knock on wood, all that - so, in the grand scheme of things, it could be worse.
I'm going to go put on some pyjamas and get back into bed and continue waiting to try to book a flight off of this suffocating island. Remind me never to come back here in the winter?
See you in London!