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Published: November 1st 2014
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Today is my third day back in Edinburgh and it’s almost as if I never left.
My flight from Canada was probably the best one I’ve taken (other than that one time I went with Mom). I managed a decent level of sleep and I watched about half of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part Two. I was asleep when food came around for dinner, which made me sad, but I was sat next to an attractive, age appropriate gentleman who made polite small talk with the elderly woman seated in the seat on the other side of him so he’s obviously a lovely person. He went to sleep shortly after take off and I was asleep for about two hours before landing so I didn’t really speak to him much, but I’m sure we would have gotten along like a house on fire. Our children could have been beautiful. What a pity that there was only a brief window during which we were both conscious.
Having unfortunately avoided what was quite possibly True Love, I made my way
The Flat Landline
Because my flatmates and I are mature, responsible adults capable of making practical decisions. to my connecting flight. All was fine and dandy until it came to the actual customs part. On the flight, I dutifully filled out a landing card (having remembered my experience last term) and stored it safely with my passport. Everything would have been fine and dandy if the queue for customs did that thing it’s supposed to do. Y’know, move. I was in the same stupid spot for forty five stupid minutes and my window to make my connection was steadily shrinking. Suddenly, I had two minutes before my gate closed and I was only halfway through the queue for customs.
So there I was, having a bit of a panic, when I finally made it to the front of the line. Being the panicked, nervous child I am, I started babbling at the customs lady who kindly told me the flight would wait for me. Actually, many people told me that from this point on. Pretty much everyone who saw me. That was both comforting and embarrassing. I was that obnoxious kid who rolls their eyes at anyone who took more than two seconds to do anything. I sped through security and ran to my gate. This doesn’t seem that impressive, but I did it in flip flops (which I wore so I didn’t have to take off my shoes for security) and have since blistered between my toes. Now that’s annoying.
I made it to the plane and managed to find my seat and put on my proper shoes and waited. And waited. And then did some more waiting. Twenty people are not as cool as I am and didn’t make the flight. So we had to wait for their bags to be removed from the plane and suddenly it was the time I was due to arrive in Scotland, where my flatmate and her mother were waiting for me, and I still hadn’t left the tarmac in London. To make all things worse, I wasn’t able to tell them anything because I had no wifi and so had to leave my friend clueless about my whereabouts.
The flight was short and sweet. Words cannot possibly convey the absolute elation I felt to be back. It felt like coming home, without actually being there.
Customs was a breeze and I managed to remain off a watch list, which is always nice. I met my friend and her mum and we grabbed my stuff from the baggage claim in the shortest wait I’ve ever experienced with baggage claim. Then we went back to my flat.
It’s amazing. It’s spacious and reasonably in tact, there’s no major leaks, there’s only one rather huge hole in the wall but it’s not in my room and we’ve since boarded it up so that’s fine. We have a coat closet! It’s awesome. Except the shower sucks and the oven is broken. But that’s only details.
The physical greatness of the flat pales in comparison to the sheer excellence that is my two flatmates. I have lucked out and managed to get the kindest, most entertaining, and thoughtful flatmates in the history of the universe. We’ve yet to have an argument and everything is awesome.
School has started and the classes are great. I’m taking Russian this year, which is fun but really tough. I’m still waiting to learn all the swear words. Everyone knows that knowing how to swear is the benchmark of linguistic learning.
I’ve also joined two clubs this year, film society and sign language society (I do know the swear words in that language, which is awesome. I’m basically fluent). The people in both of them are really fun and I’ve made some really cool friends. It’s difficult to pick a favourite society but I spend a lot of time at film soc, I wouldn’t be surprised if it consumed my life; there’s something to do five times a week. Thus far, I’ve avoided the gaping maw of film discussion and dissection but I will keep you updated.
So that’s me. This year is going great. My social life is (currently) balanced and healthy. All I gotta do is transfer that same health and balance to my academic one.
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