I get on the plane tomorrow, fly back to London from Cape Town, sit for twelve hours in Sardine class and bundle out at Heathrow, London city apparently still gripped by fear and ice. The whole Iraq War on Terror mess seems so far away and unimportant here.

It's been a good 3 weeks.

I am glad of the sunburn I have picked up, the African summer heat.

I am glad of my cousin B--'s wedding that I attended on Friday. She was radiant.

I am glad of the stag night on Wednesday. My first impressions of the groom, R-- are of him arguing with his mother - he didn’t arrive on time, he was overcomitted. Later that evening he was semi-naked and motherless drunk in a shopping trolley. In spite of this I think he’s a great guy (for an Englishman) and he and B-- will IMHO do well together. Are doing well together – they’ve been cohabiting for years now.

I am glad of spending time with my brother – we are getting on OK. We seem to be past the sibling rivalry, and the awkward distance. We can be supportive now.

I am glad of just a little taste of the Cape Town outdoor summer trance scene. I love the freaks, the nuttahs with dreads, tats and spaced-out behaviour, who will never be 9-5ers. I love the ones like me, who use that escape valve to allow them to function 9-5.

I am looking forward to London again – ADSL internet, bustle, movies on tap and E2ians