Call me morbid, call me pale.

So, greetings from Manchester!

I flew in on Wednesday, which means I have been here four days (five if you include the fact that officially it is Sunday morning). And so far I feel, well, I don't know how I feel! It's simply odd how quickly you forget that you're in another country.

Before the flight I was, quite frankly, shitting myself. Not literally, fortunately. Being socially awkward and hating feeling silly, I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do at the airport, where to do it, or when. Several friends tried to allay my fears, but a lot of them just told me I'd be fine and didn't elaborate. One friend actually began to go into a step-by-step tutorial, but she was distracted by the wonders of duty-free shopping. Still handy.

So come the day I was due to fly out (having gotten roughly four hours sleep the night before -- don't EVER think it's a good idea to pack at 10pm if you're leaving at 8am the following day. And your ipod charger is always somewhere in your room), I was a mess. Once I knew where to check in, I was ok, but then the thought of checking in was terrifying. It was not a terrifying process at all. It was actually really useful!

Leaving my family was weird; when I started to cry they calmed me down and told me it was only four months. Well, sure, but you don't have to go through customs and security by yourself, do you! Everything was fine until I got to security. I forgot that the vegemite in my carry-on was more than 100g (goodbye present from bestie. Sniff.), and also forgot to take it out of my carry-on. Two fails for two bags. But they didn't abuse me or anything. My shaking leaf impression probably made them see I was a first-time international flyer. And not a drug dealer.

On the plane I sat next to a German girl who couldn't believe I had never flown before, and we sort of became instant friends without having to talk to each other much. Though it was a 14 hour flight (to my stopover), it all seems like a blur of movies (State of Play - not as good as the BBC miniseries, like watching a catch-up episode of a season, He's Just Not That Into You - rubbish message to women everywhere, The Boat That Rocked - the kid who plays Carl is a fox, Watchmen - amazing superhero movie I knew would be good because I'd seen it before), television (only individual eps! What a gyp) and food (weird small portions, but a million things). And sleep!

Yes, friends and neighbours, I am that person you all hate. The one who can sleep on a plane. And deeply, according to my German friend. I slept for most of the flight after the stopover. I barely made it through the safety demonstration and thought I didn't get my headphones.

And then, the thing I'd been freaking out about the most; Immigration. Convinced they would interrogate me and decide not to let me in, I was trying not to panic. But they asked me why I was here, which university I was studying at, and my offer letter. Then I was through. Spent the whole time at baggage claim convinced they'd lost my luggage because everything had been too easy up to now, then walked through the 'nothing to declare' part of customs, unworthy of mr Sniffy the sniffer dog's attention, to meet my friend in Arrivals.

Let me tell you something fabulous; diet coke is about 1 pound. Though it's 500ml and not 600ml, it's only $2. I have enjoyed more now than I care to mention (the water's fine here, too. Water pressure for showers are AMAZING).

Stay tuned for adventures of jet lag, clubs, international student gatherings and TopShop. Too tired now.