However.
We're arriving in London around 10:30 on Thursday morning, and of course they're having a strike that day. We're Becketts. This stuff happens to us. We should be used to it by now, but we aren't.
Yes, we're going to England. We're even - overambitious, never-learning souls that we are - going to Scotland. It's a graduation trip/birthday trip/everything-for-the-rest-of-our-lives trip. My sister is most excited about Scotland. My mom is, as she says, "along for the ride." I'm most excited about England, seeing as how most books I've read (and movies I've seen) take place there or are simply English to their very core.
We'll wander through Westminster Abbey and see William Wilberforce's grave. We'll doff our caps to John Knox in Edinburgh, just like the real Eric Liddell probably did not. We will sleep in an old inn in Cropredy, miles - if that - from a famous battle of the English Civil War. We'll be unimpressed by the famous waters of Bath. We'll breathe history.
I can't wait.
