London

I brought sunshine to London.  Yes, I’m taking full credit.  I figured if Rose was taking a day off work to come pick me up from the airport in her new-to-her Volkswagen Beetle convertible, the least I could do was bring her some California weather.  After 22 hours of travel, an 8 hour time difference and a not-brief-enough scare that my iPhone would never respond to a charger again, all I needed was Rose and a cup of Earl Grey to keep me beaming like the rare London sun until past midnight. We spent the afternoon in a beer garden in Rose’s neighborhood of Shepherd’s Bush (or, I’m told, shéboo) where I had to order a Rosie’s cider and Rose appropriately sipped on a rosé.  I love to order my drink based on the name.  We guessed/made up the conversations and circumstances of the other patrons out on a Wednesday afternoon and caught each other up on our stories from the past four and a half years.  Before we knew it we had run some errands (the kind that make you grateful to have a day off during the week) and were cutting up tomatoes side by side in Rose’s little kitchen making Bruschetta.  Just like that, we were partially here in the present and partially in a small town somewhere in Italy preparing dinner on tour five years past.  We giggled well past bedtime like teenagers at a sleepover and conquered the language barrier with pictures from the internet.  I was too blissed in the moment to remember to take pictures except for this one of a street where Rose would like to live.  

Trainers = Tennis shoes or sneakers

Flat = Apartment (I know, everyone knows this, but it’s fun to use different vocabulary)