My Easter Long Weekend began like the airport scene in Home Alone... you know, the one where Catharine O'Hara and the rest of the McCallister family is running with bags through the airport to catch their plane.
Okay. i wasn't running through an airport...nor was I running in general, but in my mind i was.
The Londoner and I are packing our bags for our first long weekend away as a couple -- and our first long weekend away with my parents. He's met the parents and of course they got along splendidly, but you know these things can always be a little nervewracking.
I turn to the Londoner (who is half asleep after spending 3 nights on the couch, 3 double shifts at the bar and a night out until 5 am - in celebration of my girlfriends visiting from Toronto. I know. he's a keeper, right?) "Do you have your passport packed?"... silence. I look up at him. "No." He says. It's in Victoria. At his parents.
Okay. Not a complete disaster. But our train is leaving at 11am -- which means we need to add another hour to our journey the next morning to pick it up. So we headed for St. Pancras station with our bags and flowers and my mother's birthday hamper from Fortum & Mason in tow.
Everything was fine in the end. We made it - with time to spare and after a much needed nap on the Eurostar, the Londoner and I made it to Brussels.
I couldn't have asked for better hosts (my parents), who made us feel relaxed from the second we stepped off the train. Note to self: visit Brussels more often!
Obviously, if I went into every detail of the weekend, you would be here for hours reading, but I will sum it up and say that despite being kicked out of one Belgian cafe in the Grand Place (don't worry, the Londoner defended my honour), it was the best weekend I have had in a long time. It was filled with rest, relaxation, sunny and warm weather and of course, it was filled with love.
Okay. i wasn't running through an airport...nor was I running in general, but in my mind i was.
The Londoner and I are packing our bags for our first long weekend away as a couple -- and our first long weekend away with my parents. He's met the parents and of course they got along splendidly, but you know these things can always be a little nervewracking.
I turn to the Londoner (who is half asleep after spending 3 nights on the couch, 3 double shifts at the bar and a night out until 5 am - in celebration of my girlfriends visiting from Toronto. I know. he's a keeper, right?) "Do you have your passport packed?"... silence. I look up at him. "No." He says. It's in Victoria. At his parents.
Okay. Not a complete disaster. But our train is leaving at 11am -- which means we need to add another hour to our journey the next morning to pick it up. So we headed for St. Pancras station with our bags and flowers and my mother's birthday hamper from Fortum & Mason in tow.
Everything was fine in the end. We made it - with time to spare and after a much needed nap on the Eurostar, the Londoner and I made it to Brussels.
I couldn't have asked for better hosts (my parents), who made us feel relaxed from the second we stepped off the train. Note to self: visit Brussels more often!
Obviously, if I went into every detail of the weekend, you would be here for hours reading, but I will sum it up and say that despite being kicked out of one Belgian cafe in the Grand Place (don't worry, the Londoner defended my honour), it was the best weekend I have had in a long time. It was filled with rest, relaxation, sunny and warm weather and of course, it was filled with love.
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