On my way to the airport there were some beautiful, but unexpected issues, to which British people aren't prepared:
I was stuck in the bus in the middle of nowhere, because we couldn't move! It scared the hell out of me, I really didn't want to miss the flight. After an hour we started moving slowly, I jumped off at Manchester to save some time, went straight to Liverpool, then switched coaches again and went to the airport.. Yay, I was on time!
Some time later I was on my way, listening to loud loud music and thinking about home:
After 13 chapters of Harry Potter I landed in Riga and saw wide smiles of the beloved ones. In no time I was in my old room, which seemed even cozier than I remember.