After a whopping 6 hours of sleep I made it out of bed in time to take three trains for my Sunday morning obligation. On arriving back to the flat with a much needed cup of coffee in hand, Ebeth and I decided we’d venture to Notting Hill via Primrose Park, which is about three blocks behind her place.

En route I took a liking to this vehicle not only because of its clever little name but also because it’s just my size. On having seen it I attempted to imagine Codie fitting in something similar and found myself dangerously close to snort laughing.

The view from Primrose Hill shows how small the city really is in a way I could comprehend (3-d). It was suddenly simple to see why it was so easy to get from one major attraction to another on foot.

Notting Hill was a wee further than we’d planned and since I intentionally left the sneakers at home for fear I’d be tempted to run while I was here, and in turn was again the obvious American, we dropped in pub number 1 for a little warm up / rest / liquid encouragement in the form of a pint of cider.

That pint got us maybe another ten blocks to an additional pint in pub number two.

The second pint inspired us to hop a double-decker to deliver us to pub number three where we had a bite to eat with another pint. Feeling warm and happy and very ready for an early tuck in after a day walking in 30 degree temperatures, we jumped another bus home.

This is, in good form, my definition of vacation. Wandering neighborhoods via native transport instead of spending all day attempting to take in art I don’t understand in a gallery I arrived at on rented wheels. Exploring pubs and making friendly with locals instead of nibbling micro-meals at five star restaurants. All of it accompanied by plenty of rest, yeah baby, this is it.

Tomorrow? Who knows where my wanderings land me. After dinner, though, I’ll pack because the fun has to end eventually and we have to return ourselves to that distant ugly place we call reality. We circle back to routines and jobs and bills and errands and the wretched bits we’ve been attempting to deny, that list of things we wanted to hide from. Along with those, though, come the hugs and smiles of friends welcoming you back, the grace of fish that don’t float, the comfort of cars that still have wheels and the other components that make up the familiar embrace of your so-called life.

Kissy boo.