I hate titles

Titles are what I've always been horrible with, and I judge things by them prematurely all the time and miss out.  So there, I hate titles.

I've been in London with my boyfriend and his parents since early Monday morning.  His brother lives here with his wife and cute baby.  We have some time to kill before mass, so here is probably a very long-winded reflective itinerary.

Sunday we flew out of Atlanta.  In the hopes that my status as an ultra light sleeper would be threatened, I brought Melatonin and a positive attitude.  To zero surprise, I was awake for the entire nine hour flight, occasionally rolling eyes with the only other guy awake a few seats away.  When we landed, it was about 7 am and I discovered just how disgustingly low the bar is for public restrooms here.  While we walked through the groggy Monday morning airport, Bryan and I noticed a gorgeous mother with her two kids.  The young boy and girl were being so good and very quiet, keeping up with their mother's fast pace.  The mother was so rude though!  She kept snapping at them for minor infractions, such as veering too far left or sliding a hand down the railing.  I complimented the little girl on her cute boots, and we talked about what Santa was hopefully bringing her while we waited for our luggage.

Luggage achieved, we jumped on a train into London.  Still shivering, I watched the quaint neighborhoods wake up for the busy week to come.  There was snow everywhere, making it the best way to shake hands with such an iconic city.  Truly amazing is the history of this place.  (I guess that's a pretty lame thing to say, but I'll accept my role as the typical American in this instance.)  The hotel where we are is cool, very minimalist style, which is apparently very London modern.  Imagine the W without all the pizazz.  We're in an apartment-style room, containing 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms (only 1 with a shower) a kitchen, and a living room, which is where Bryan's bed is.

We napped for a few hours before Bryan's sister-in-law and niece came over and we went to eat.  I was shocked and SO excited that I found something good to eat since I'm so picky.  It was FREEZING outside.  We walked around a bit, and I almost walked out in front of a few cars.

Tuesday, Bryan and I went on an all-day tour through the city.  Of all the places we saw, St. Paul's Cathedral was my favorite spot.  I'm such a nerd for churches anyway, but where Princess Di and Charles said there vows...wow.  I guess getting married in a place built by Henry VIII has its omens, but it was magnificent.  Tuesday night, we met Bryan's dad, brother, and sister-in-law and went pub-hopping.  Drinking in a 500 year old room is definitely an experience.  I probably stuck out like a sore thumb, nearly spilling my drinks several times after long gazes around the rooms.  (Being here has made me very aware of the fact that I am a bad open-mouth breather...I look stunned all the time.  Why hasn't anyone ever told me this?)  That night I ate sausage and mash, which is breakfast sausage in the States and mashed potatoes and gravy.  Bryan's mom has been keeping the fridge stocked with fruit and brie, so I've been fed well.

aaaand now we're going to mass.  Apparently I'm more long-winded than I thought. 

Merry Christmas!