Our schedule, set up after much searching for the cheapest fares and much discussion of what we each wanted to see most, was confusing but functional. Mr. M and I took off for Europe one day and got there after dawn on the next, except, of course, as far as our internal clocks were concerned it was still around midnight. I knew I was in London for reals when I found myself on the Underground listening to a voice tell me I was on the Piccadilly line heading towards Cockfosters. After locating our London hotel and spending some time walking around London, we visited the Tower. My first choice was St. Paul's, but it was closed to visitors on Sunday. We never did get to St. Paul's this visit, so it's high on my list of reasons to return.

We crashed fairly early that day, of course. The next morning, we flew to Florence, which was a part of my cunning plan to deal with jet lag by sleeping on the planes. ( Unlike most of my plans, this one worked pretty well )

Sleepy now. Future installments will feature getting drunk at a Tuscan winery, our return to England, and meeting the divine keswindhover. And pictures.

Um, what's a Dreamwidth and do I want one? I know I should know and probably once did, but I can't remember.