Naughty Volcano

We boarded our Air Transat/Thomas Cook flight but it was 40 minutes late but we took off a flew and flew in tiny itty bitty seats with TV's that didn't work so good and very silly yucky headphones. Then we couldn't manage to get any sleep at all so we are feeling a bit poorly. Still we were headed to London, Gatwick...but..well...we didn't quite make that. Seems the silly ash cloud is at it again so we re-routed to Paris but then I reminded Mr. Volcano of our little agreement. So even though Ireland and northern England and southern England and Heathrow and Gatwick were all closed the little cloud left a little hole over London Stanstead (north of London) and we u-turned that plane around and made it. Course then they arranged for everyone to go to Gatwick but we want to go to London, not Gatwick, so we hopped a train to someplace I forget and then hopped on the London Underground into the city. We were so very, very, tired but we went to Madame Tussaud's anyway and saw all the wax dudes and Morgan Freeman is about the best and then we went on the ride in the little London Taxi ride and then to 221B Baker St to visit Sherlock Holmes and buy Uncle Sean his London Cab and his London Postbox, from Sherlock's house. Matt is right, the gift shop is now next door to the house and not across the street...and it's bigger. So there Matt, you were right. Then, except for Daddy, we crashed and burned and burned and crashed some more and now we are super sleepy but have our Cadbury chocolate buttons so life is good. We are a 5 minute or so walk to Pimilco Station, much closer than Mr. Google Man made it look.

That's all folks...I told you me and Mr. Volcano were friends. Oh yeah and Grammy says not to forget to say we can see the London Eye and the Parliament Buildings from our window.