Jetlag fog beginning to abate.

Extremely sad to wrench myself away from Mary Jane and Jack and Kate in the sun at Northport railway station. Already badly missing MJ. Had a good holiday, but inevitably it felt too short. Found myself getting on really well with the kids too, which was clearly a good thing.

Easy journey back to Newark however, and the flight home wasn't too traumatic. Sat next to a chatty ex-nurse who now worked as a flight stewardess, which I considered a good CV for someone obliged to sit next to me in full flight horror mode.

When I reached the UK I turned on my phone and discovered I was supposed to meet Mike that morning at Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children. Made my way straight from Gatwick to London, arriving in London early. Ate breakfast in an Italian cafe in Fleet Street and walked up to meet Mike past the Old Curiosity Shop, which of course made me think of MJ and the Pies.

Mike and I were given a tour around the hospital. Both of us genuinely inspired by the positive attitude of the staff. An amazing place, and we walked through several wards talking to people who worked there. In the coronary ward a little boy in a wheelchair stuck his hand out to be shaken as we waked past, his hand like ice with poor circulation. And we spent some time in the chapel too, noticed there were teddybears and stuffed toys dotted about the place, which once belonged to children who have now passed on.

Had a couple of Polish beers with Anton the day I arrived, and last night strapped on a curry nosebag with the French Bloke. Otherwise have been falling asleep a lot, mainly on trains. Yesterday, unavoidably, nodded off in the middle of a big meeting opposite the MD and next to the Chairman. Brilliant.

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