Back to Blighty

It is good to be back in Old Blighty -- even if it has been randomly hailing today.

Most of the day (since well before 4.30am GST, landing time in Schipol), I have been mostly fine, coherent -- hyper even -- and not jetlagged... except for a brief period when washing a woolen scarf on delicate in the machine seemed logical. Said scarf semi-felted itself in annoying manner and had to be carefully separated from halfsies and stretched back into relative artistic attractiveness.

However, I have had a brief period of comatosity similar to C-A-T. This blog entry is merely a quick break in overall limpness and mental atrophy (frequently leading to drooling on pillow) to relate my recently acquired relief at getting out of Sydney Airport yesterday (although that yesterday was more than 40 hours ago. Don't try; it just hurts your brain switching time zones with flights.) as there was apparently a gang war in another terminal before my flight left... I am cravenly glad to have been happily buying small duty-free stuffed animals and missing seeing someone beaten to death, although continue to be appalled by humanity sometimes.

... still much to catch up on, but this must needs wait for another respite from drooling.

g'night, mate. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz -- taking lessons from kitteh.