Planes and Potter's

Henceforth, all text written in quotes and italics is taken from my journal.

"Destination: Fun", that’s what the screen in front of me says; I’d be hard pressed to disagree. After an hour or so spent eating and being hounded by the paparazzi (a.k.a, my dad) and another 45 minutes sitting in a ridiculously hot and crowded holding area, I’ve boarded the plane. When attempting to put my backpack in the overhead compartment, I had a lovely and charming young stewardess ask me, in a joking and friendly manner, if I had packed stones. I laughed and smiled warmly, thinking of the 22lbs of hardware, cables and toiletries I had packed in it to save myself from paying even more in excess baggage fees then I needed to. She opted to shove it behind a back row seat in the "club" section. I may not be flying first class, but at least my luggage is. Being seated in an aisle seat directly across from the loo does provide easy access, but unfortunately doesn’t allow for much of a view. I truly missed that aspect of take-off, but that silly grin was still being worn proudly as I was pressed against my seat watching the suns reflection creep warmly across the surface of the cabin."

So, there’s nothing much meant for consumption that I hate more then airplane food and for the record, I don’t recommend either "Last Holiday" or "Pink Panther", but besides the fact that I only slept about 20 minutes, my flight was fine. After realizing that, yes, I do believe my luggage was the last to be unloaded and having a brief moment of "Ok, where the **** are they?", I successfully found my family and was greeted with hugs and smiles, a Coke and a chocolate bar. This place is incredible, this family is adorable, and this house is absolutely perfect. The house is 4 years shy of a century old; all hardwood floors, dark wood everywhere, three floors high (I’m alone on the third floor with my own room and bathroom), with enough charm to make me believe that it’s somehow enchanted. I think I uttered the words "…so cute…" at least 50 times during the initial tour; grounds included. These kids are too precious to even describe and warmed up to me immediately; I love them already. Their accents…my gosh, you can’t even believe how cute it is. While writing in my journal last night and thinking about Thomas (the delayed, non-verbal, possibly Autistic 6 year old), I believe I heard a word from God: You need to be working in the elementary school level, not highschool. Last night, I was watching Dr.Who with the boys (their favorite T.V. show) and Tom came over, climbed on the couch, snuggled in beside me and had me read to him. He is a gift from heaven; the child is an angel. Henry, the other 6 year old, is a bundle of excited energy and incredibly sweet. Edward, the 4 year old, bounces off the walls seemingly always on the verge of combusting. He’s definitely the naughtiest of them all but has won me over nonetheless. Baby William, 18 months, is beyond precious. It may just be because he’s little, but he seems to have a knowledge and understanding beyond his years. I am going to absolutely love it here; essentially, I am living in a fantasy world.

This morning I went to a Catholic church with the family. It wasn’t your typical starchy mass; the priest was actually quite cheeky and the church itself was beautiful. Catherine and Jonathan (the parents) barely kept the boys from swinging off the chandeliers (and Edward from putting the hand of his Dr.Who figurine into the ear of the old lady in front of us), but I was happy to see some follow through: They had a toy taken away and received no ice cream after lunch for their naughty behavior. That seemingly obvious parenting skill called "Follow Through" could've easily been the difference between a wonderful or extremely frustrating two months. We ran some errands in Guildford after church. It was a sort of outdoor mall, but all old buildings and cobblestone streets…charming, absolutely charming, everything. The cars here are insane; I've seen an Aston Martin, multitudes of other rediculously expensive cars and there are as many BMW's and new Carrera's as any other car combined, on the road.

Ok, one funny story before I end my first official posting. I’ve entitle it "The End of Time": I brought my clock radio in case there wasn’t a clock in my room and to avoid having to wake up to anything that sounds like either an attack warning or a truck backing-up outside my window. Although I am aware of the difference in voltage and took mighty care to make sure all my expensive equipment and hardware could accommodate it, it was only a fleeting thought as I plugged in my poor little clock. While setting the time I started to notice a strange burning smell. Before I even had time to process this attack on my senses, there was a somewhat pathetic popping noise and a single wisp of smoke rose up as though an internal (and extremely metaphorical) candle had been blown out inside of it. That was the end of my clock radio.