We’re back! The laziest, hottest beach vacation ended as we flew into a chilly London at 1:30 in the morning on Saturday, sleepy and-if you’re Jon-with tans already fading away. (It’s his English skin, it seems to actively reject sun as soon as it comes into contact with the UV rays). Bruce was happy to see us, and we were happy for a few hours’ sleep at the in-laws, and then on to see our little flat , and quick to air out its slight staleness from a week all on its lonesome.
There isn’t much to say about the holiday. We ate seafood, we drank cocktails, I read three books (taking advantage of those uninterrupted hours of sweaty bliss), we siesta’d daily to escape the heat, and swam in the ocean and felt happy and light. It was good. And now England feels downright autumnal in comparison.
-pretty picture heavy, so click more below to see the rest-
And I take it back about having not much to say. Stay tuned for some food and drink rhapsodizing, and some philosophizing about the cultural stickiness involved in taking a trashy holiday in England (oh, you didn’t know holidays could be trashy? Well let me tell you-apparently they can. And I have thoughts on this, thoughts I say!)