We Love You, Hemel Hempstead

I could be anywhere in the world in this room, except for the awful comedy programme on BBC 2. This is some show from the seventies. The presenter is an arrogrant prick who is smoking a cigarette in the bits where he introduces the sketches, which aren't funny.

Oh yeah, I'm in England, just arrived today. I just purchased two hours of Internet access in my hotel for ten bucks so I could send over a file to the U.Va server. And, I also used Skype to call my wife.

It was sunny here today, which I didn't expect at all. Why would I?

I'm torn, you know, about wanting to be here and wanting to be in Virginia. Now that I'm here for a week, I can't wait to get back home, but that's only because my family is there. Could we move here someday? I'd love to, but I'm not British. I'm British-American, which can be read as a math equation resulting in something that isn't either. This is why I've always felt like a misfit, not entirely fitting in either place. At least, though, I can claim ownership in America.

In any case, today, I arrived at Heathrow at about 10:10 or so, plane late. Then taxiing took forever, and then, my bag was the last off the plane. So much for saving time by printing out my own boarding pass.

The key question now, however, is do I stay in this hotel tomorrow night or not? It was 40 quid tonight, but it's 70 tomorrow. That's about 120 US. I don't know if it's worth it, but it makes sense to stay here another night. I have three stories to do while I'm here, and had better get to it. But, I also need to get to Dunstable. I don't know. My heart and mind is still back in Charlottesville, so it's hard to make decisions.

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