Tim handled the two long flights very well. We were stuck in the middle section with no windows, but it didn't seem to matter to him at all. He got a little annoyed when he had to wait to watch
The Smurfs until we'd taken off. He was oblivious to the sleeping people around us and laughed very loud several times in the quietest part of the night and because he was wearing headphones his "Are we on the ground?" questions were also very loud. He told us that "this airplane was much better than Gramps's." He didn't sleep very much; neither did we.
The tube was a big hit for the first twenty minutes of so. Then the jet lag kicked in and at the same time the Piccadilly line was shut down for repairs and we had to walk to another station. Getting back on the tube was a nightmare. He screamed, turned bright red, shouted, kicked and just generally had a major meltdown. It was a fairly full train and I couldn't help but think that the other passengers, aware of his American accent, were thinking that Americans are horrible parents. I wanted to tell everyone around us that he'd just traveled all night from the US and was beyond exhausted.
The fit continued when we got off the train and headed up the stairs to the street, but stopped immediately when he saw The Clock Tower. He was duely impressed. He then noticed the boats ont he Thames, which and dozens of doubled decker buses. It was worth the journey.
We're four days into the vacation, and Tim is still suffering from jet lag. His appetitie seemed to return today, but he still hasn't sorted out his sleeping patterns (so neither have we) and falls asleep wherever he happens to be when it hits. Jenny and Neville's cat Bruce has become a good friend.
