A volcano in Iceland has rubbed out the possibility of a plane
home. Me, Claudinne, Le Capitain and 4 friends should be in the
air now; instead of which Claudinne and I are in a cyber cafe in
Woolwich Arsenal.
Le Cap., undauntable, has booked a very early Eurotunnel
crossing and will drive us home.
Should be in Tilling late tomorrow night. Though we must also
brave the strikes in France. Something of a saga perhaps.
Anyone know the Icelandic gods we should address? I fear hubris
in this enterprise though Im relieved to be getting out.
The election in England is just toooo much.
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