Welcome to England kids, a land of snow and ice, panic and confusion, proper beer, and a ridiculous array of accents. Our last couple of days in copenhagen travelled smoothly by in a sea of heini's, museums, hot chocolate, and pubs. My fantastic skills in drunken sleeping wound to the forefront as jetlag hit, leaving Shannon with a lap full of beer and me in hysterics. Soon enough however, we were in the airport, Shannon, breezing through in Scandinavian efficiency; Myself, lodging in a mile long que, in British tradition. You can tell your in a proper que, when someones strolling along filming it. Turns out England's had snow, which, proving somewhat too fluffy, has turned the place into a quaint, somewhat picturesque, panic ridden, lawless state. I was hugely fortunate to be a mere 15 minutes late getting in, with stories of iced over runways, malfunctioning trains, and stranded motorists blanketing the news. A slight translational error has given Shannon a sex change, with the majority of my family assuming he is a she, and that 'she' is actually my girlfriend. Resulting in much hilarity. "So hows your beloved going in Sweden then?" "Yeah good I presume. my girlfriends doing OK back in Melbourne as well." Deary me. The lack of photos at the moment, is tragically due to my lack of a camera cable. Will source one in the coming days and picturesque joy will dominate.