The Mother Country is Cold, Rainy, and Smells Like Tea and Doilies

Though that could just be the house of the nice little old couple who run the B&B where I'm staying...

In other news: I have arrived.

I landed at Heathrow this morning.  Flying British Airways reminds me of the good ol' days, when American airlines served free breakfast on all redeye flights.  Of course, the U.S. could never beat jam and croissants in cutely customized packaging.

After a ridiculously expensive cab ride to travel 20 minutes, I made it to the front steps of one in a line of modest brick and white-accented houses.  Sonia and Peter greeted me at the door and remarked at the size of my suitcase: "Did you bring all your books with you?"  I took a nap, then got my keys and headed to the best place in the UK: Tesco's, the all-purpose grocery store with tons of pre-packaged sandwiches.  Heaven.  (Maybe I just really like British food packaging.)

About to go to sleep in a little room that meets all the British stereotypes: florid, wooden, frumpy.