The Best Pizza I’ve Ever Had

This post is actually about when plans go wrong.

In the almost three months we’ve been living in London, a lot of things have gone wrong. (Or gone exceptionally slowly. They love to queue here.)

In September, if something went wrong, we felt pretty discouraged. When the bank told us we wouldn’t be able to open an account for three weeks, we may have gone to McDonald’s and ordered a twenty piece McNuggets.

In October and November, if something went wrong, we were frustrated but not debilitated (see: the previous post). We only ordered Dominos once.

Now, in December (already?!), if something goes wrong, we’re okay. We can figure it out. We know bus routes and train stations and have all the right transportation apps.

For instance. Today our dinner plans fell through at the last minute. We were already going to an art gallery (okay, okay, a Harry Potter graphic art gallery) and the Senate House Library in the city center, and now we needed new dinner plans. We agreed (without any name-calling) to wing it. (I don’t like to wing anything.)

And the stars aligned. On our walk to the library we saw a pizza shop. I’ve learned so much in London so far, and one of them is that the pizza here is not great. (I’ve learned more important things than that too, like stuff for my degree… whatever.) But this was traditional, thin-crust, very-cheesy, a-little-bit-greasy, charred-crust pizza. And it was cheap. And they had iced tea in the fridge (*angels singing*).

Later, the bus didn’t come to our stop (this happens more often than not), so we had to walk to the next station so we got hot chocolate. Just because. (Just because we were on a pizza high.)

Author’s Note: In reading back over this post, I’ve come to realize that my life pretty much revolves around food. I’m okay with this. Did I remember to eat my Advent chocolate today?


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