Brexit: Wood Family Style
Our final countdown began very similar to our beginning with pillow talk. Curled up next to my husband in a bed only partly strange to our existence, but foreign enough, we discussed how we wanted to proceed. Our feet had finally decompressed after a restful night of sleep, previously swollen from four days of walking and tubing through London. We love our friends in London, graciously letting us descend upon their home, at our will. This East London brownstone served as a home base for us, a refuge for wayward travelers, a familiar residence to feel grounded. When we had arrived, four days ago, they were not home, but told us to knock on the neighbors door to gain locked access. We originally meant to arrive around 9pm but the foreign passport line at Stansted took longer than our flight from Italy. It was a complete bollox and one begins to wonder about the merits of Brexit. We arrived at 11pm. They not only helped us in, they bbq'd us some sausages and served up a green salad; s...