Ladies and Gentlemen, Delta Airlines welcomes you to London. The local time is seven-thirty am. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisles clear until we are parked at the gate. Please use caution when opening the overhead compartments and removing items, since articles may have shifted during flight.

I had never felt this kind of excitement before. This was all I had ever wanted since I was a little kid. I had never been to London before, but I felt like I was coming home. I sat tapping my nails together waiting for the seatbelt light to go off. I looked over and saw my mom, with her hazelnut hair tied in a ponytail, shaking my dad to wake him up. The struggle with time zones was going to be difficult. We left Virginia around eight o'clock our time, so really it is only two o'clock in the morning. The light turned off and I was up out of my seat. My dad, with his eyes hardly open, slugged out of his seat and got down our bags for us.

"You ready Daph?" He asked, handing me my backpack. My dad had dark hair like, but light blue eyes that always glimmered in the sun. 

"As ready as I'll ever be."

When we finally made it out of the airport, I had already gotten an Uber to take us to my new apartment. Most of my things had already been sent, so now all there was left to do was get there and unpack it all. We all hopped inside the Uber and started the drive. The most scary thing was definitely driving. I was going to have to get used to this. I wasn't planning on driving on my own anytime soon, but still having someone drive you on the other side of the road was scary. It was hard to contain my excitement. Every road we drove by made me feel more and more exhilarated. The beautiful rows of buildings, and the parks, and I had to hold in my squeal when I saw my first omnibus. I couldn't wait to get to my apartment. It was in one of those classic little townhomes, that almost felt like I was living on Cherry Tree Lane myself. Although, unlike the Banks, each floor was a different apartment, so I did not own a great big townhouse to myself. It was a ten-minute walk from the city which is a least what it said online-I couldn't wait though. I felt like it was a nice balance between the two types of London. The city life and the more classic London feel. I didn't mind walking, I actually really enjoyed walking. Taking walks had always felt like an escape for me. Parents are mad, go for a walk; stressed about school, go for a walk. It had always been my way of calming myself down. The difference in the walks I will now is the fact that on my walks I use to dream about walking in London, now it will be a reality.

After what felt like forever, but was actually twenty minutes, we made it to my apartment. When we stepped out of the car I couldn't hide the smile on my face. I felt like spring after months of winter. The apartment had that classic London feel. It was a four-story rectangular box, but to me though, it was more. Even if it had the same design as the houses in rows next to it, it was my new home. I loved every part of it. I grabbed the key from my backpack that they had sent me a few months ago. We walked into the front of the building and there was a small sitting area with a fireplace and a television. Unfortunately for me, there was no elevator. My apartment was on the third floor, so I would definitely have a workout every day. This townhouse was larger than the others, the man who owns the building bought two and then took down the wall between them to make an apartment building. I loved that because I didn't have the money to buy a house like this, so being able to rent an apartment inside one was perfect.

We waited downstairs for Mr. Clarke, the owner of the building.

"He said he would meet us here at nine and it is," I looked down at my watch, "eight forty-five, so he should be here soon." Back at home I was a time freak, but during college I kind of let that go a bit. I was hoping to keep that going here as well, but I was so excited fifteen minutes felt like forever to wait. 

"Let's go sit then," my mom said, motioning at the leather sofa in front of the fireplace. The sofa was large enough to fit us all, so we all sat and waited. I took this time to look around some more. The floors were an old, but strong, oak wood, and the walls were a champagne color with white crown molding all around. After the sitting area, there was a small hallway, which I presumed led to an apartment.

"Can't we just go ahead up?" My dad asked, scratching at his dark scruff.

"I don't want to be rude, I feel like we should wait for him dad."

"Whatever you say Daph."

I smiled at both my parents. I had always favored my mom in looks. We both had dark brown hair and green eyes. I did get the dimple on my right cheek from my dad though. Neither of my parents were that short, so I was around five-six, which I thought was a good height. Not too short and not too tall.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tall man with khaki pants and a green Patagonia pullover on. I turned and gave him a small grin, which he returned with a big smile.

" You must be the Taylors'" he said flashing a wide grin and a British accent that I adored.

I hated my last name. I could not tell you how many different people in Virginia have the last name, Taylor. Besides smith, it was definitely the most common. My mom told me that she had hated it too, but as a girl, she had always dreamed of taking her husband's last name, so she took it. I wouldn't have if I was her. Her maiden name was Darling. How cool would have Daphne Darling been? I do appreciate my first name. It almost made up for my last. I might have met many people with the last name Taylor, but I had never met someone named Daphne in America. I knew 5 Mackenzies, 7 Emmas, and 10 Sophie's, but I never met a Daphne. 

My dad stood up to shake his hand.

"I'm so glad you decided to rent with us."

He was a pretty attractive older man. He had dark hair that was starting to turn grey, and he was in pretty good shape. Plus he had that British accent that makes any man more attractive. I feel like it could be scientifically proven that when a man has an accent, of any kind, they are ten times hotter. I don't know what the accent does, but it does something. Think of any guy you find attractive, and then add an accent, ten times hotter am I right? 

"So let me get you your spare key and some paperwork, and then you all can head on up."

"Thank you," I said eagerly smiling.

He came back with some paperwork and then two spare keys, I gave one to my parents and kept one for myself. I almost dropped the key out of excitement. We then made our way up the dark wooden stairs until we finally made it to my floor. It was a small hallway with a window at the end. I looked at my apartment number. 301. My home. I turned the key into the door. My parents and I stepped in. When you walked in it opened into a small living room with two windows that faced the street. At the moment all my boxes were in here, along with the couch I had bought to be delivered here a few weeks ago. There was a small archway that led to the kitchen, which was small, but all I needed, and then there was a hallway that had two doors in it that led to my bedroom and bathroom. I almost cried with how excited I was.

"Ok, let's get to unpacking." I said, placing down the papers Mr.Clarke had gave me along with my key. 

"Right now?" My mom groaned.

"Yes," I went over and placed my hands on her shoulders, "I want to get to living life here as fast as I possibly can."

She nodded her head and placed down her bag, " Let's do this."