What I wouldn't give for a flight right about now...

I am going insane. I need to fly. I need to pack up, put all my liquids and gels in a quart-sized plastic bag, be harassed at customs, eat unidentifiable meals the flight attendants call chicken on rice, and smell me some British air. I know it's not wise and it won't happen, but I need to take a weekend off and go somewhere that I love. I love everything about England. Shopping in town. Cigarette smoke. Fish and chips. Tescos. Roundabouts. The rain. The seaside. Tiny streets. Sweet shops. The crazy people. My family. I miss it all. I miss my home. I know if you're there right now, living a grown-up life, you're thinking that I only like it because it's a holiday whenever I go. You're right, I've never really worked there or experienced England in everyday life. But it's still my home. It's still my favorite place in the world. I've still got Daddy and Nanny and my cousins and my aunts and uncles who are there. I want to go. I just want to go home, if only to get away from all the craziness here.

Sigh.