I guess I don't even have to mention that I'm not reading/blogging very much these days?
For a Read-a-Thon anyaway.
For a normal reading week what I've accomplished so far is not even that bad.
It's Tuesday night here and I have read 102 pages of Gayle Forman's Just One Day - and even listened to a couple of chapters of The Name of the Star by Maureen Johnson.
So far, so good.
London-wise, my life is turned upside down. I swear, I've never walked that much, been lost as much, been tempted to eat and shop and smell as much.
My mouth has been open in astonishment not once, but many times throughout the past 24 hours.
My journey to London was rough, but a lot of fun, too.
Just like mom said, I packed wayyy too much. My suitcase was so heavy, I couldn't lift it on my own and along with that I carried a backpack and four bags. NOT funny. At all.
However, the really astonishing thing for me was that I made it.
You know how self-doubt and frustration creep up your tummy when you see yourself getting hurled over by a train in the vain attempt to balance an estimated 100 lbs worth of luggage and - even though you feel like it's way too much for you to carry - you still arrive.
Not right away, of course.
I wouldn't be me if my planning had sucked at just one single detail!
My phone does this very nice thing were it tells you even horrible things in an utterly neat style.
For example, when I turned it on to use the maps app to get to my Uni accommodation, it said "good bye" in that friendly way of its and went dark.
There I was, without any navigational tools (I didn't even have a map) in the middle of the biggest city I have ever set foot in, trying to find a student house noone - it seemed - had heard of.
At that point I saw myself sleeping on a park bench (assuming, of course, that I would have found that park) and was very close to tears.
However, if you're alone in another country, in a huge city and you only have one place to go, the last thing I suggest is crying. Because let's be honest - it doesn't help a bit.
So I went (okay slouched) my way through London, asking every nice-and-oriented-seeming-citizen-without-a-suitcase if they had heard of my street and where to find it.
Eventually, someone did know my street. And she even went to the trouble of guiding me there. Another nice person then used her Iphone to find out where exactly my accomodation was and then - I had done it. I had arrived. And never given up. And just kept going.
I guess the lesson I learned on my journey to London is that there's no need to ever dispair. Because you will arrive where you're supposed to be eventually. There is naturally no way around it.
I'm saying goodnight to you guys with this post and send my aplogogies for not being a better book blogger.
That might continue throughout the next few weeks. I will definitely blog, but I might (for the first time in my life) decide to leave the house and live my life instead of staying in and living someone else's. I promise book reviews (that's because they're actually all formatted and ready to go), but there will be some London-ness in my posts,too.
Sleep well everyone (or wake up if you're on the other side of the world)