All I can think about is England: London, the moors, Bath. I'm going to be there so soon. I feel like I'm using it as a defence mechanism because thinking of it makes me happy, so that counteracts all of the stress I have about everything I have to do before I get on the plane (mainly live through student teaching). Honestly, I don't care about the psychology of it. I'm just so happy that it's going to happen. The last trip there changed me so much; I wonder what changes lie in store for me on account of this trip. It's all rather quite exciting, I dare say.
Where Nicholas Nickelby tried to make an honest living.
Where Jane Eyre nearly died after running away from Mr. Rochester.
Where all of the best Austen parties took place.
One gets the feeling that the world really is at her fingertips, and all she has to do is pick up a pen and write all about it.
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