I am now in England.
"England?" you ask? "Shouldn't you be in Ireland by now?"
Yes, England. I was meant to be in Dublin by now, but my flight was delayed for 16 hours (no, I didn't misstype that - it's a one followed by a six), so we missed our flight to Dublin and had to forfeit the hotel's deposit.
There were raging electrical storms in Toronto (also, I think there were some admistrative fuckups because they gave us a $100 Air Canada voucher and they wouldn't have done that if it were just the weather's fault), and the aircraft and pilot were trapped in different airports.
Damn. I was really looking forward to Ireland, but now we are less rushed and will explore London in the proper amount of time needed. (Well, really, the proper amount of time is 4 years, I'm sure, but 4 days will have to do.)
Terry had a little pod hotel at Heathrow, which was just what I needed: a place to sleep and shower after only sleeping one hour on the floor of the departures lounge of Pearson Airport. I slept my face off, showered the margarine out of my hair (how did that get there?) and then we got the train(s) to Kent, where my friend Ruth picked us up.
We are now kipping here for the next few days while we take in this great city, see some antiquities pillaged from the colonial years, a market or two, some historical landmarks, and maybe see a show.
So: first roadbump sorted. I'm here, anyway.