Thames at night from Albert Embankment

It feels like we have been planning this trip forever, and we kind of have. We made the decision to buy the tickets in June, and we have spent the last six months planning nearly every minute of the journey. We printed blank calendars and emailed friends, negotiating for their valuable time. As the trip got closer we booked our trains, buses, planes, and hotels and considered the calendar full.

Now that we’ve landed in London, it hardly feels real.

We were mostly packed last night, and after feeding and walking the dogs for the last time for 2 weeks, we used the morning to pull the toiletries together and go over our lists. Convinced we had packed everything we would need, we drove to Ryen’s house, put Penny in her garage and took Ryen’s car to the Dartmouth Coach depot. Ryen’s a big reason why we are able to take this trip. We’re grateful she agreed to look after the menagerie while we are gone!

The bus trip from Lebanon to Logan Airport was uneventful. We took an early bus, feeling more comfortable people watching at the airport than our watches on a bus later. The movie was new remake of The Karate Kid, but half-way through the movie the DVD stuck. The driver did what he could, but even had it not stopped the trip was less than the length of the film. More than likely it will be the same film on the way back anyway.

We forget that while we will be away for the next two weeks, including Christmas, that it is too early for most holiday travel, so the airport is less busy than expected. We were both surprised that we weren’t asked to participate in the new “enhanced” body pat-down or choose the full-body scanner — and were mostly relieved. Still early, we went to an airport pub to have a beer and meal before the flight. A little after 7 p.m. we boarded and our red-eye was underway.

The flight over was not that great. A few first-time-flying infants were less than enthusiastic and expressed as much most of the way, alternating turns screaming. Our seats were directly in front of the toilets in the mid-section of the plane, which means no one kicking you in the back of the seat, but it also means less legroom and the constant sound of an airplane’s toilet flushing. With earplugs in and headphones tuned into the in-flight entertainment, the flushing sounded as if an announcement was about to come on over the intercom. We both managed to grab a little sleep, but in fits and starts and dreams involving being flushed down a large loo.

We arrived at Heathrow a little after 8 a.m., found our luggage and made our way to the Heathrow Express. The Express had wifi so we checked email and updated friends and family that we were on the ground in London.

The Heathrow Express is about a 15 minute ride, and once we got to Paddington Station, we queued at the cash machine and learned that our debit cards weren’t working. The bank had been updated over a week earlier, so this was confusing. The credit card was working and so we bought Oyster cards and made our way to the hotel in Lambeth. Outside of the Lambeth tube stop we tried another cash machine and got the same result. The hotel was in walking distance, so we decided to check in and wait until the bank was open to contact them.

We got a little turned around, but eventually found the Novotel and checked in to our room. We drew the curtains, turned off the lights and tried to nap, but we’re foiled a few minutes later by staff knocking loudly on the door. We shooed them away and went back to sleep, knowing we need more energy if we are to keep up with Nick and Jess this evening.

More later.

Today was one of the most exhausting New Year’s Eve I can remember, and we didn’t even attend a party. Well, not including the spontaneous one we created with Chris and David the night before.

Instead we spent the entire day returning home from our excellent adventure in England. We slept in as long as we calculated we could safely do without missing our flight. We fantasized about some change in the rules that would allow us to stay for as long as we wanted if we missed our flight, but decided we missed the dogs, and should head on home.

Contemplating how thankful we were that we packed lightly, we each took a pull bag and one to sling our our shoulder, checked out of the Pavilion, and dragged our slightly hung-over bodies to the Edgware Road tube stop a few blocks away. We stopped briefly at a chemist shop and purchased some Nytol to help me sleep on the flight.

We each got a tube ticket for Heathrow, and found a place to wait on the platform. After switching trains, we settled in to our seats on a packed train to the airport. The trip seemed to take forever, and we were starting to wonder if perhaps we should have splurged on the express. We were in no hurry to leave the country, but we could think of better places to be.

Checking in with Virgin was a breeze, and going through security was much less frustrating than our domestic experiences. After running through the duty free shop to avoid being overwhelmed by the perfume stench, we found a pair of seats and began the waiting process. For all our whinging, we had arrived quite early. Our flight had not even been listed yet, so we each took turns stretching our legs and looking around before deciding to kill time in an airport pub over a few pints and snacks.

When our flight finally was listed on the departures board, we walked a long way to the assigned gate where we were randomly selected to have our carry-on bags checked. The security personnel were courteous and respectful, and we were on our way after only a few minutes. Sitting outside the gate before the boarding process started we saw a man with a Pittsburgh Steelers jacket on, and I called “Go Steelers!” to him. He smiled politely and I thought I remembered the guy. While at the drink machine I spoke with his daughter and asked if they had been in Cambridge the Sunday before Christmas and she said they had. I told her that my wife was the one who had shouted “Go Steelers” at the sight of her father’s jacket that day, and she laughed. She returned to her family and relayed the story to her dad, who looked over and smiled.

It wasn’t too long before we boarded the crowded flight to Boston. We took our seats and waited, listening to various Americans stowing their luggage—and teenagers arguing over who got the window. We whispered to each other about our fantasy to stay in England.

Having popped my Nytol dose a few minutes before boarding, I adjusted my earplugs and read the sport page, hoping to sleep the whole way to Boston. I ended up being groggy and cranky, but thanks to much less turbulence than the previous flight, I wasn’t nearly as anxious. I realized we were on the same plane as our flight over when I tried to use the same dodgy entertainment unit in the headset. Naturally, the damned thing waited until I was on the last clue in Who Wants to Be a Millionaire!

Trying to sleep was impossible. Because the flight was going west the flight attendants were preparing people for the time change by constantly feeding and watering the cattle … errr … people.

Eventually we landed in Boston, got off the plane, went through customs, picked up our bags, and made our way to the area where we were to catch the Dartmouth Coach back to Lebanon, New Hampshire. It ended up we had missed the last bus by about 15-20 minutes, but we were on schedule for the bus we had planned to catch, which arrived about 40 minutes later.

The bus was quiet and dark. We set up the laptop to watch The Big Lebowski. The bus was playing a Will Smith movie, The Pursuit of Happyness, of which neither of us had heard. As I glanced up occasionally it looked like a slow-moving tale, and one that had significantly fewer special effects as most of Will Smith’s films.

The bus rumbled on in the dark, and the battery on the laptop pooped out on us a few minutes before our film ended, but not long before we pulled into the bus station. Sarah sorted out our stowed luggage while I walked to the truck and cleared it of snow. The vehicle was already warm as I picked up Sarah and we embarked on the last leg of our journey home.

It was nearly half ten when we pulled up our steep drive and entered the house for the first time in a fortnight. We had been invited to two parties in Vermont this New Year’s Eve, but the long travel day coupled with jet lag kept us from going to either event. We turned the heat up, unpacked some of our stuff, and cuddled on the couch where I drifted in and out of sleep.

Sarah woke me shortly before midnight. I poured us each a snort of scotch from the gift set Sarah had given me for Christmas; and as Dick Clark and friends counted out 2007 we toasted the new year, and each other, before making our way to our bed.