Crawling to Vauxhall

Please assume the brace position for the atomic-level whinge that I am about to publish. The brace position is simple: all you have to do is curl your body up into its smallest possible configuration. Then hold that position for 23 hours. Because that's what I just did.

I knew that I would probably be upset after a 17 000 kilometre plane trip with only 45 minutes layover, but I didn't expect that the trip would also involve having a headache for the whole second leg of the flight, around 13.5 hours. Landing brought little respite. Realising after getting through customs that there would still be 8 more hours until I could have a shower was just shattering.

Queueing up next to ABC Foreign Correspondent Phil Williams in Heathrow did not give me any delight, nor did the 25 pounds it cost for a train ticket to London give me any pain, though I am abstractly aware that both things are noteworthy.

I've been pretty numb all day. All I want right now is to make it to 9.30pm without falling asleep, and then I will hopefully have circumvented any jetlag.

But the point is: we are in London. We've seen Tyburnia, Vauxhall, Westminster, a Tesco, the Tube, a Waitrose, a Pret. We've got Oyster Cards. We've walked through a pigeon cloud.

I'm too tired to type.

More later!Read more