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 […]