The squid is broadcasting to you from Heathrow Airport in London. The sun's just come up here and it promises to be a pretty day -- made slightly less pretty by the fact that I haven't slept at all, of course.
Flight from Dulles was fine, slightly emotional departure of course, but goodbyes were said in private to my two favorite gentlemen earlier in the day so all went fairly well. Then the connection time just proved to be no match for Heathrow's maze of tunnels, shuttles, escalators (they really like the last one), and security. Despite mad hustling, I arrived at the gate only to find the flight to Lyon I was supposed to be catching had already departed.
Fie! Was immediately transferred to the next flight, which unfortunately doesn't leave here until 2:55 pm local time. As right now it's about 8:30, we've got awhile.
Spirits are decidedly low due to lack of sleep, food, and general creature comforts. The recent sadnesses of saying goodbye are weighing rather heavily on me and therefore I have spend the last hour wondering why on earth I thought leaving home for five months would be a good idea.
But the sun's coming up, and I'll get on a plane eventually, and I have some money for food, and everyone does have nice accents. I'm still only about two degrees away from a full-on panic attack, but I think instead I might walk the terminal to see when food spots open and perhaps find a semi-comfortable chair to take a nap in.
Here's hoping that the next squidland dispatch has better news to report. For now, this is squidgirl dutifully trooping through the airport all alone.