I kept a fairly decent journal while I was actually there, so I wouldn't forget the most amazing vacation ever. Problem is, I didn't write it ALL down, and there are memories I've already forgotten. So here's my plan: write what I still remember about each country right now, this moment, so those memories don't drift off into nothingness.

I saw the Eye of London, but had no idea what it was at the time. Haha. I just remember walking past it and goggling (is that the right word?) at how seriously gargantuan it is and wondering what the heck it was doing there. I remember seeing my first real English red phone booth and freaking out. I think that's what made me realize I was actually there. I remember Ian, our family's very nervous, very polite South African roommate at the hostel in London. He had to shave twice a day because he worked at Harrod's and it was unacceptable to have stubble. He moved to London to work and save money for... I forgot. But he was living at the hostel. Crazy! I think our "big" family of five made him really nervous because we sort of took over his space. Even though there were six beds there. Oh! Also, about the hostel, Missy's pillow literally had puke on it, so she switched with Ian. Only.. Ian didn't know. Poor guy.

I ate the worst sandwich I've ever had in my life on a boat tour of the River Thames. I couldn't even bite into the crusty roll that was the bread, there were no condiments of any kind to soften it up, and the ham tasted like cigarette smoke smells. But I still enjoyed the awfulness of it because I ate in in London.

We found out the hard way that at King's Cross Station it costs 20 p to even get into the public restroom. Not a bad fee at all, actually it's a good idea to keep the bathrooms clean, but we didn't happen to have 20 pence. So, Missy found 10 p on the ground and asked a kind soul for the other 10. I can't remember how we got Steph in the bathroom. 

Being the Harry Potter nutters that we are, my family walked around to find the place between platforms 9 and 10 where one enters platform 9 3/4. We didn't get too close to platform 9 or 10 before we found the lovely, get-those-bloomin-tourists-out-of-the-way-of-the-real-commuters spot! The fake (but real) Platform 9 3/4! I secretly wished that I would fall the through the wall and get to start my life in the magical world. 

London was this vast, never-ending city with loads and loads of history I wish I knew about so I could stand somewhere and say, "Oh my goodness. This is where... fill in the blank". I felt so small when we were walking around, but small in a good way. Like I was a part of something huge.

York, on the other hand was more my cup of tea for sure. It's a smaller city and much quainter because of that. It also wasn't as modern and "hustle and bustle" as London. We got to walk around and follow alleyways and talk to locals and eat at a Pizza Hut (where we ate pizza with a fork and knife - just like real Yorkers). We followed one alley that lead into this White Rabbit sized tunnel.. it was spooky at night, but so awesome. I still wonder why the heck it was there. No one can get back there unless they're about 10 years old. The same night we found a magical little park/bench area with white twinkle lights strung in the trees, and I wanted to stay there forever. 

Up next, Scotland!