Home again, home again.

Home again, home again.

London has really great sandwiches; British women all wear cosmetics; the Tube is ridiculously expensive; salaries are not commensurate with the cost of living in London; the ham in Buckingham (and Hampstead, Nottingham, West Ham) is from the Old English word for home; the growl of a Lancaster bomber flying over the city is ominous; multiculturalism and the class system exist side-by-side; candy vending machines are evil temptations; nobody else gardens like the British; police have a sense of humour and humanity unmatched elsewhere.

And I did speak Japanese. On purpose. Once.