First light

I was on the first plane before sunrise.

Still dark when Lisa dropped me off. The sun threatening the back of the Capitol as I waited at the gate. By the time I was in my seat for the six a.m. shuttle up to New York, the first reflections hit the loading ramp, traffic-cone orange.

Apparently our friends at Heathrow could sense that I’m not usually the first one anywhere and helped me to take forever to get off the plane, to get my passport stamped, and to get my bag. My bag was the last off. Of a fairly full trans-Atlantic flight. But I was rewarded with a fabulous welcome committee of fabulous Jo, who presented me with a (My Lil Pony) balloon at the arrival gate, chocolates at the car, and pink pad and pen on my bed. But best of all: Jo, Phil, and puppy Bentley.

Shameless plug: You must go to the best tearoom in Canterbury, possibly all England, Tiny Tim’s Tearoom. Yummy, yummy food. Yummy, yummy tea. (I had the Lady Somethingrather tea, among other things...) I also have it on good authority that the full tea is amazing, as are the proprietors. After a too short visit involving much flora and fauna and talking, I was sent on my way with scones and Plump Pilgrims.

The flight to Stockholm was fine. To my left, a Japanese man drinking beer and red wine at the same time. Over Oslo, a bright pink moon.