Leaving London, or, Back to the Grind

I have returned home from London, invigorated from my time spent wandering a new city and catching up with some dear friends, and only mildly worse for wear after a bout with some strange and unpleasant twenty-four hour stomach virus. Unfortunately, I fear the warm British-brewed ales also did not agree with me; I sampled a few in rather remarkable and admirable moderation, only to find my intestines longed for the chilled and frothy varieties of home. Unlike some of the other cities I have traveled to, it can be easy to immediately think of London as a familiar place, even if only for the simple fact of a shared common language. In reality, naturally, the old city was no less foreign or new or exciting as any other. As usual, I have a copious amount of haphazardly snapped photographs of monuments, architecture, food, and various items that caught my fancy, amateurish but interesting nonetheless, to be posted and reflected over, hopefully in a somewhat timely fashion (this, indeed, a rather frivolous illusion, given that it has been nearly a year since I vacationed in Paris and there are still numerous images and stories that I have been meaning to share; procrastination is an idle vice). These will wait, as I frantically play the delightful post-holiday game of catch up in the office; gulp.

(image taken from Self-Important Worthless Opinion)