Had the weather been nice, it wouldn’t have been London. The flight into the UK was uneventful in the way you want international flights to be uneventful: no rush to the gate, no crying babies, no forgotten passports, and just enough turbulence during dinner to remind you that you’re 30,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean. The weather was so murky we couldn’t see much of the country until we popped out of the clouds about 10 miles from Heathrow. The countryside looked like the opening credits of “The Vicar of Dibley” and then little neighborhoods started to appear that could have been Privet Drive. The lovely people at border control gave us all hearty handshakes and a big “Welcome to England, mate!” as we got our passports stamped. (I’m sorry, did any of the sarcasm dripping from that line get on your keyboard?) The rain so far has been light but constant. Preparing for this, I wore a trench coat and Hunter rain boots from the airport. All while carrying my Cambridge satchel. I either reeked of desperation or good taste. Let’s hope it was the latter. The University is lovely, and if I weren’t so tired I’m sure I would appreciate it more. I had my first Mars Bar with lunch today so we’re obviously off to a good start.