So much happened there and due to my pitiful journal keeping I'm ever so afraid it's already slipping from memory. I'll have brochures and tickets and postcards to remind me of the places I went, but I'm afraid I'll forget how I felt driving up to them in our coach, being woken from uncomfortable naps to walk around quietly or (more often than not) dance upon their ancient floorboards. I was bored by some and in awe of others, not fully understanding what I was witnessing but feeling very important and yet very small for being a part of it. And the anecdotes here don't even begin to sufficiently record those adventures.
So, essentially, all you need to know, is that I went to London and grew up an awful lot; that I didn't want to come home, and cried more in Utah for missing London than I ever cried in London for missing Utah; and that I was very very happy.