Back in Blighty

A quick hello and thank you to all who sent messages and tweets of commiseration (and envy!) while I was stranded during the volcanic ash cloud scandal. Safely home now after a prolonged holiday in Sharm El Sheik (whoever told me it was ‘just like Vegas’ was obviously not thinking of the Ocean’s Eleven version I hoped they were). I can report that it was a very peculiar scene by the pool, with all the usual stages of the trauma process being experienced – shock, denial, anger, acceptance etc – just in a bikini and with the Beatles being piped through a squirrel-shaped speaker to my left. Only now I’m home has the true tragedy been revealed: my tan is nowhere near as deep as that displayed by other repatriated strandees in my neighbourhood. In fact, there is no physical evidence of my captivity at all – merely the emotional and financial scars. Hmm.