March 1st, 2006

My hotel room, like many in London, was underground. I woke up at 7:30 so that I could eat breakfast, get to Mass, and then check out in time. I showered and headed upstairs to the lobby for breakfast. Oddly enough though, the restaurant was closed and it was dark outside. Somewhat confused, I slowly made it back to my room. Was it always dark in London at 7:30? I though to myself. I checked the tv when I got back into the room and it said that it was 2:30am. Somehow my watch had been moved ahead 6 hours. I know it had been correct at 5pm the previous evening, and I still have no clue what happened.

I woke at 730. Again. I had been told by someone I met in Santa Barbara the week before I left that I had to go to Mass at the Oratory, so I took that advice and headed out for the mile long walk. It was quite brisk, and ice was scattered on the ground in random, places. After communion I happened to spot Liz Grimm (yes, one of those Grimm's). Actually, her married name is Liz Forrester. Her eyes opened wide as she saw me, and she kind of mouthed ¨what the...¨at me. I met up with her after Mass and she invited me over for dinner that evening. I accepted the offer eventually made my way over there in the evening.

Liz was the only one there, other than the 3 kids. She was making dinner, so I helped blow dry Geoargianna´s hair, and then held Aloysius for the rest of the time. See, I am sooo domisticated. Michael showed up a bit later, as did some of their friends, a married couple: Hugh Guy, and Mary Mae. The dinner was quite tasty for it being Ash Wednesday. We ate soup and some vegetarian dish, with bread. We told stories, jokes, and complained about how ridiculously expensive London is. It was a great time, and I felt very fortunate to have been at the same Mass as Liz that morning (there were 5 that morning at the Oratory).

My flight left for Porto at 6:40 the next morning, and it flew out of Stansted, which is about 2 hours outside of Central London. Liz offered that I could sleep until 2, and then head out, but I decided against it. Michael was kind enough to take me to the coach station, which was 2 miles away. Not even his expired license could keep him from doing what he wanted on those roads, including going the wrong way down a one way street. I jumped on the 11 o´clock bus and slept the majority of the ride to Stansted.