Train to Croydon

Which is better? This?

Or this?

Yeah, I thought so too. That was my feeling yesterday when we ventured to Croydon, which is basically south London. Busy streets, tall steel buildings, people bumping into you, sirens, yellow ambulances, all the hustle and bustle that Newmarket is lacking.

When they tell you that you grow by taking yourself out of your comfort zone, let me tell you, I must have grown a lot yesterday. We left early, got on the wrong train to London, but at least it was going to London. With plenty of improvisation and good luck, we arrived at the UK Border Agency on time, just a little rattled. It had taken Jennifer six weeks to get this appointment, so missing it was out of the question. After we ran across a busy six-lane street, I spotted this sign.

Oops! After her appointment, we decided we'd had enough of Croydon and took the train (now quite experienced) into central London for a late lunch. Red buses, cute taxi cabs, and tourists passed by as we dined al fresco on Buckingham Palace Road. One gentleman stopped to ask me for directions to Westminster Abbey. It thrilled me to think I looked like I knew what I was doing!

A hot train back home, and we'd had an 11-hour day. It was nice to be back in quiet little Newmarket. The evening temperature required a sweater, which felt great after a sweltering day. The weather is so nice in the evenings, it sounds like a party all around the neighborhood, so many people sitting outside, you hear much laughter and talking all around you.

Have I mentioned this is the driest July in 250 years?!!