So let’s go back to Monday morning, June 4, 2007. I have been in London for approximately two days, and I have absolutely no idea when, where, or if I’ll be interning with the organization I had planned out over the last four months. Having heard nothing from the director email-wise in approximately one and a half months, I attempted to call her Saturday night, but to no avail. On Monday I located where I was supposedly working, but the fortress of an academic building appeared impenetrable without a security key card. Discouraged and admittedly dismayed about my prospects, I returned home and, in a last ditch attempt, emailed someone the director had cc-ed on a random message. Much to my surprise and relief, I received a reply within ten minutes, was on the phone with another future co-working within twenty, and was set up with a pseudo desk, background reading, and plan of action by the next day.

It’s pretty much been bliss since then. The people I work with are awesome; they’re extremely patient as a bumble along, requiring guidance and asking questions at practically every step. The work itself is super exciting, and I’m learning so much in the field of school health and nutrition. My main task right now involves writing and responding to emails upon emails, which Beth Crawley might say is my calling. Office life is never dull, from the occasional flaming poppadum incident (I had nothing to do with it) to the discussion of every three letter acronym you can throw together (SHN, OVC, KAP, MoE, SCF, FLE, SPW...). Oh, and apparently the reason for the Fort Knox-ness (even inside you have to swipe your card to access practically every hallway or room) is that animal testing is conducted in the basement. The Brits are not so much a fan of that. Like to the point of murder.

Anyway, life outside the office is splendid as well. The church I’ve been going to is brilliant (a favorite word here), and I met someone from Idaho Falls at the student group. What are the chances? After an unfortunate incident being crushed in the back doors of a double decker bus (tricky “No Entry” signs), I’ve become quite familiar with public transportation. Small shops line every thoroughfare, ranging from Chicken Land to Ladbrokes (you’d think a gambling franchise could come up with a bit more encouraging name). Also note: bookmakers to not actually make books. On the docket now is photographic documentation, which is always a stretch for me. Maybe if I were obsessed with flowers...