The Past is Prologue

While writing the first page of the brand new book of my life the pen skipped. I did what every person in my (multiple pairs) shoes would do and scribbled circles until the ink flowed again. And that’s where my analogy ends. During the flight from Winnipeg, the plane circled over Toronto and then was diverted to Hamilton while Pearson was closed due to thunderstorms.  Not even a 2 hour delay could wipe the wide smile off my face. I found myself smiling for no other reason than pure joy at being on this adventure.

While waiting in Hamilton I watched Duplicity, a moving I could watch over again. It had a complex plot that, I think, would unravel itself with each successive viewing.

My first glimpse of The Thames

My first glimpse of The Thames

I’m learning all kinds of things about myself. I can navigate through unfamiliar airports by myself, I can start conversations with other travelers, and it’s only after Holly asks me if I’m nervous that I acknowledge it. Apparently, as a way to deal with stress my body produces copious amounts of sweat (sorry Mom, I was sweating not glowing) along my hairline. You can imagine what this does to my coif (Selina you can let me know if I spelled that wrong in the comments). I remember Dad’s hair being sopping wet the first year I rode Captain at Winter Fair. Somehow, I don’t think his farm implement hat is going to blend in on the streets of London as it did along the concourse of the Keystone Centre. Just saying.

Erin’s travel trip: Don’t bother painting your nails, they’ll just get huge chips while manhandling the huge, heavy suitcases in which you packed enough clothes to clothe a small village.


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