Here’s one funny little incident from my journey, just to wet your appetite for my in-depth coverage: On the way to London, my coat, which is five years old and H&M quality, but still very nice and dependable. *(Editing this post, I noticed that in fact, the above sentence is not a real sentence at all, but I kinda like it, so deal with it.) *Now, I do take pride in the fact that I’m able to sew on its buttons which inevitably fall off once in a while. I had done this about two weeks prior to the London trip. And now, since you’re all used to the stilistic features of high literature, you’re already expecting the climax of this rather small story. Here it comes: On the way from our flat in Vienna to my sisters house in South London, my coat lost exactly two thirds of its button populace. Two of my buttons just ripped off while I was struggling with my backpack! So the first morning in the wonderful city of London was spent sewing buttons onto my coat. How’s that for a funny story? Impressed? Well, I didn’t think so. To placate, a photo from Lunnden:
