There’s no nice way to say this.   It’s a bitch of a journey.   I went into training on 1st September, three months to get well enough to survive LHR-CDG-SXM.   And still it takes its toll, in so many different ways. Last time: three hours at LHR T2 with no shopping, no breakfast, no coffee even and Salman Rushdie on our plane, remember?   I do.   All too painfully.   It took me three years to be able to face it again. On Thursday morning I got up at two a.m., collected my travelling companion at three and arrived at Heathrow at four for our flight to St [...]

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