Saturday, March 18, 2017
I'm sitting in Terminal 3 of Heathrow airport at 6 a.m., sipping my Americano, having just eaten an almond croissant. There's a shop here called "Glorious Britain," and there's "World of Whiskies," and "Rolling Luggage" and "Sunglasses Boutique -- tax free." (How much tax is usually imposed on a pair of sunglasses, I wonder?)
I am not doing any shopping. In fact, I'm bleary-eyed from getting up at 4:30 a.m. and also from inspecting dog vomit in the middle of the night. (I'll spare you that story.)
Before we took a car to Heathrow this morning, we got the house ready for Warren, our friend and dog-sitter, who's coming over later today. I covered up the Olga cams so he doesn't think we're spying on him. Downside: We can't watch Olga from Luxembourg.
Free curling iron, anyone? I found it on the street, perched atop someone's trash bin, but I couldn't make use of it, personally.