The London Diaries – A survivors guide: Intro.
I had been planning the escapade to the grim capital two months prior to my departure, my eagerness emanating from deep earnestness with three missions on my quest-list: to see the long, lost Swallow, to be struck by metal-thunder, and to explore the ground for a potential migration.
The longing was great, the excitement as the days-to-launch counted down was fervent, as was my secretly harboured desire to be able to carry the joys of local weather with me across the sea. To this effect, the background check regarding the destination temperature conditions seemed to play a Feline & Rodent game on me; meteorology overly favoured my destination in the fore run to the Cat’s arrival, where all the Mice of London were out soaking up the sun rays. As soon as the Cat landed paw, the Mice scurried away into their burrows (a.k.a. Boroughs), shunted by the water pouring from the familiar Gray sky. Typical irony when your suitcase is packed full of cotton, you actually could use a bit of wool.Nevertheless, nothing, not even the wind, the cold or the rain could wash the grin off my face. In forty minutes and 32 pages of Huxley’s “Island” later, I was practically within wingspan of the Canadian Goose’s nest, where the Swallow had taken refuge. It is no coincidence that their residence was in a place called ‘Canary Wharf’.
The adventure begins.