I really hate to fly and the Universe apparently knows it, for it keeps hinting that I probably should not fly at all. It usually starts when reserving tickets, for on-line pages where I try to buy them, tend to crash; this year it continued with my attempt to reserve seats, which I had given up in the end, hoping to sort it out somehow later. The form insisted that we each must have precisely two (2) items of luggage (which airlines typically don't want, and we don't even own as many), but then it would not let me to the next page. And so we did it the old fashion way, appeared bodily at a counter, and insisted to be processed there.
I finished writing the journal up to here, but things came up meanwhile — which are covered
in next journal(s), while this one became disjointed. I'm falling behind!
If you would like to see pictures from our trip to England, they are available
in the gallery, which is also attached
below as a placeholder.