I had seen her in pictures obviously, but it's not like I have a 3D phone or anything, I'd never met Eliza. We'd been planning to meet, actually, just before it happened, but my mum had read about the abduction in the papers and kept saying "You know she's only talking to you because you have no life." and "Talking to our internet-buddies, are we?" She new I was weird but I guess wanting to meet up to Eliza took it to a new level. Jo didn't help matters, either, or any of my Twitter friends actually. Eliza was probably the guiltiest to this end, however.
So I took a train to London without her permission. Yes, that's quite clearly the wrong thing to do, but Ben's and Jo's entrapment was killing us, and the news hadn't reported on them in ages, and we'd been talking to them like nothing was wrong, but something was wrong. We were never going to let it get serious. I mean, we were only going out to pinpoint their exact location, not get massacred by angry terrorists.
Actually, the media had explained the terrorists' motives the other day. It seems that they'd found something offensive in British TV, which would explain their taking Benedict hostage. Still, the reporters seem to think that there's something the British government isn't telling us, and that this was basically the murder of Franz Ferdinand: an excuse. Not for war, like the Archduke's assassination, simply an excuse to kidnap an actor and one of his fangirls, demanding a highly extortionate ransom with more than questionable conditional clauses.
In London train station, I finally met Eliza. When I first saw her, she was leaning against a railway with her back curled backwards. Evidently she regretted the bus ride from Hemel Hempstead to London. The train had been relatively comfortable, and we'd deliberately travelled just after rush hour, so it'd been relatively quiet.
Then on the train to Birmingham we wanted to clear our minds of what was going on around us so we basically just said out loud what we'd normally have tweeted: our love for Andrew Scott's eyebrows, the pain that Stephen Moffat was putting us through, normal teenager stuff, you know. Consequently, by the time we reached our stop off point for travelling, we were positively exploding with feels. I'm sure Eliza's told you all this by now, so I'm sorry and I'll get to tonight.
Tonight we're in Cairnryan Caravan Site. The owner of the pub says he's quite close to you and your family, more to your family since you don't go down as much as the rest, but that he and his family spent a day with yours and a bunch of other families at the beach. Anyway, they were kind to us. They tried to send us home, but we put on accents (I've no idea where it sounded like I was from) and refused to disclose personal details. So they had no option, and they realised that.
Anyway, we didn't spend a whole lot of time at the pub. Actually, we didn't spend a whole lot of time anywhere. We stuck the music stations on for a while but we were really tired from travelling so we soon said goodnight and went to our rooms. I understand that the point of this e-mail is probably lost on you by now, but here it is.
Jo, you live very far away.
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