The extra day off work, the BBQ, fantastic weather, beach and margaritas and sparklers and the one day that cops turn a blind eye to all the fireworks you crossed the border for. Early-morning parades where they throw weird rock-hard candy that doesn't shatter when it hits the pavement. Patriotic jello, mysterious mayonnaise-based salads of woe, and gorging myself on strawberries and early raspberries.
Well, now. Isn't this awkward, being in England. At least in France they have a similar holiday a mere 10 days later. Sorry about the colonies I guess? But wheee, we're free of the tyranny of the royal family!
I'm sure there are expat parties going on all over London, but we are taking off for a very long walk. I'll report back, hopefully with toenails intact.
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