Forty winks

I have never taken any exercise, except sleeping and resting, and I never intend to take any. Exercise is loathsome. And it cannot be any benefit when you are tired; I was always tired.

The day of training goes well. I head across to their main canteen at lunchtime through a wide, glass lined corridor, that snakes through lush woodland. The few unglazed surfaces sport huge pieces of art. The canteen is excellent, too. The whole place oozes wealth.

After tidying up, I head for Callum’s outside Ann Arbor. All the traffic is heading north, so the journey is fast and easy. Callum’s place is large, comfortably nestled among copious trees, up a short, steep drive.

It turns out to be seven years since he visited me with Yasmin and Lilly. I’m astonished - it doesn’t seem that long ago. Lots to talk about, although there are the usual “Yes, I know. I read it in your blip” comments.

We go into Ann Arbor for tea at Slurp, a noodle bar. It’s a low-rise, university town. The streets are teaming with people, but the busiest place is a garden centre, that has repurposed its outside areas as a bar.

Back at the ranch, we crack into the duty-free. The air-con is purring away, but we sit in the open air porch, protected from the night by mesh screens, as the sun falls, the talk flows and the bottle empties.