Day 11 was a complete write-off: Ed and I were sick like parasitic donkeys flailing helplessly in a pool of disgusting fluids and self-pity. Neither of us really started to feel human again until this afternoon (and if I think about it for more than a second I could probably throw up another eight times or so), which has been a sad end to an otherwise amazing trip. Getting a stomach flu 4500 miles from home: not at all recommended.
We did drag ourselves out of the house today though, and hit up the V&A. I had wanted to do this last week, but the timing never worked out so it was, like my last trip to London, left until the very end. Ed and I spent a good 6 hours in the V&A today, and we saw maybe a quarter of all the exhibits available – there’s simply no way to do any of London’s museums in a day, but we gave it our best shot (with our weakened conditions taken into consideration).
A quick dinner and we were back at the flat, desperately trying to fit all our stuff into our suitcases. I’m more or less resigned to the fact that my suitcase is going to come in far heavier than allowed, but it’ll actually be cheaper to pay the fine than to send a box back home. I’m sad to be leaving, but intensely excited about going home – I MISS MY CATS and my bed and my job and my bathroom and the paycheque waiting for me at the office.
London, with the exception of the two days we spent sick and the massive header I took in front of the V&A this afternoon, you were amazing and beautiful and a wonder to behold. I will miss you madly, but I know I will be back again some day. I am delighted I was able to share you with Ed, who finally got to see what I’ve been talking about nearly non-stop for the past year.
Until next time, you gorgeous city you –