BRIT-MITZVAH

Today, I have become more British. I yelled, "Idiot!" at a guy on a roundabout who clearly didn't know what he was doing.

I feel like this is some kind of Brit-mitzvah.

So, driving at night, a million miles from home, might not have been the best way to start driving in the UK. It turns out, though, that in the light of day, the fear seems rather silly. I can drive. I've been driving for more than twenty years. I'm no longer afraid of my little car, but am getting a sincere kick out of driving it. It has cut a half hour off of my commute in each direction, which means that I have an entire extra hour in my day to do stuff.

Wow!

I am in the process of planning a Grand European Vacation with my friends Nicholas and Michael, and possibly Steven. If he can make it. I think, from now on, I shall just refer to him as Possibly Steven.

Anyway, our big plan so far involves wearing cloaks, carrying torches (proper torches with flames, not "torches" as in what British people call flashlights), and taking photos of ourselves in such attire, emailing on laptops at Stonehenge and any Templar ruins we can find.

After much arranging of schedules, it looks like we will be embarking on this plan on Easter weekend. We will be travelling for three weeks, leaving a path of destruction in our wake. We are considering, even, going to Transylvania.

I am *very* excited. I've travelled a bit since I got here, but have found that it is *far* more fun with someone else. The car is good, because it means that I can drive around on weekends, and also that I can get used to driving over here. But Nicholas and Michael are fun, high-energy people who will approach this trip with gleeful abandon.

Gleeful abandon is always good.