It was a long trip, let me tell you. The plane from Orlando to Chicago was jammed full like sardines packed in a can. A little snack which to be honest with you was consumed in 20 seconds flat.

I waited for a while at O’Hare and got involved in the book that Diane had sent me last year, Alas, Babylon. Diane, thank you. So far I’m halfway through it, and it saved me immense boredom waiting for the plane.

The trip across the pond was well, let’s say uncomfortable. I swear that plane designer, while they may pay attention to the airframe, wings, engines and so on, pay no heed to a person’s comfort inside the plane. Those seats are like the modern equivalent to an Iron Maiden. Bloody uncomfortable. By my second gin and tonic I was thinking that I should have brought sleeping pills with me.

The journey on the underground to King’s Cross was something else. I had to catch the Heathrow Express to Paddington, then the tube to King’s Cross. Unfortunately I’m hefting a huge suitcase and a heavy carry-on. I get on the tube, and the very next station the conductor says “all change”; I had to carry this weight up the stairs over the bridge then down stairs. Waited at the station for 15 minutes for the next tube train to come. We got in. Then as the doors are closing a woman in there asks me, (who is not from London), “where is this train going?” I couldn’t believe it! LOL.

Then at King’s Cross, there was a scare alert, someone had left a suitcase unattended and they’d closed the underground access to the station. So again I had to go up three flights of stairs, and into the station.

Finally, the train. That was the easiest part. At Grantham (I decided against Newark since I’ve never been there) I got off, for a car journey home. It was quite pleasant weather to be frank, and the sweater(s) I’d been hauling around with me were unneeded until today when I went for a walk.