Spain High

Strolling past the ever-present TV screens in London's Gatwick airport, #1 Son and I caught a blurb that stopped us in our vagabond-tracks. Terror Alert at its highest level? What's up? So we cobbled our luggage into one pile and sat down to catch up on world news. People all around us were buried in the sports pages, napping on airport furniture, or chatting companionably with spouses. No sign of concern or fear showed in their countenance and manner.
We took their cue and gamely figured our flight plans were a go, and we were right. We sped through Gatwick and on into London on an express line, toured the streets for a few hours, and then hopped on at Paddington Station toward Heathrow. (Yes, we minded the gap, for all you people that have traveled the tube...)
Time does not allow me to expound on all our doings, as we truly are hitting the ground running here. (Lord willing, I will do some back-blogging as the week unfolds. See this space for further details.) I spent a chunk of my morning in the kitchen preparing yummy stuff for a family gathering in Canada. We head out the door (still in mid-swing from last evening's arrival) for Ottawa in 30 minutes.
Bubsie and I are glad to be home among kith & kin, but I warned Friend #12 emphatically:
"We will be on a Spain high for quite a while."

Just warning ya, is all.