Arrival

The Great Ursus, his lovely and Boy saw me off at Norwich Bus Station at 00:30 Wednesday morning. National Express is certainly an experience. The coach trip was as expected: endless, uncomfortable and occasionally entertaining. My advice to you, should you ever need to travel by coach is to book. Several people rocked up to the stops at stupid o'clock and got in the driver's face because they hadn't booked tickets, or enough seats for their party and decided that the fact that the coach was booked solid and he didn't have the seats for them was his fault. I don't see their logic, but what do I know? Apparently, theirs was a trip of a life-time and they wouldn't make their flight. Quite. At 3 am, he was far more professional and polite than I would have been. But given that I'd been awake since 6.30 the previous morning, I was cold and uncomfortable, perhaps it's not surprising. Gatwick was Gatwick. Filled with hurrying passengers, stressed staff and security with no sense of humour. I filled up on Eine, got to my flight and tried to sleep as much as possible.

Trinidad is in the depths of it's Rainy Season. The dry, dusty hills ravaged by bush fires are now all green. It's slightly cooler, but the humidity is high, so I'm not convinced it's more comfortable. The greenery is amazing; a month of rain and everything is in flower.

It's as if I was only here last week.