Crossing the Channel

Just 20 minutes prior to landing at Heathrow Airport, the end of an 11 hour flight from Johannesburg.  Travel is the only part of holidays I no longer enjoy. A means to an end.  The plane was full and the gentleman in the seat next to me was as big so we were constantly competing for the space (or lack of) between us.  He fell asleep almost immediately (lucky so and so) and I was unwilling to disturb him as he monopolised the arm rest.

We got home safely, after heading back up the M40 and even felt reasonably refreshed as the washing went in the machine, lawns were cut and some essential shopping collected.  However, as the evening progressed the travel and lack of sleep caught up.  It was lovely to get back into our own bed.