Back

Back from Gatwick. I expected an easy drive down with my brain floating in neutral, thought I'd have a fraught time waiting at the airport, and expected a fairly easy time driving back with four passengers for company.

What actually happened -
The drive down was a complete nightmare. Every truck I passed I just kept imagining myself swerving the car underneath it to be crushed. When I wasn't passing trucks I just kept wanting to continue driving until I ran out of road. For the first half hour I didn't actually think I could do it and almost turned back.

Surprisingly then, the wait at the airport was a doddle. Helped by the fact that my timing was near perfect so waiting was kept to a minimum, I had no problem here and was feeling pretty relaxed to meet Doug, Cheryl and co.

The drive back was about as expected. Started to get a bit of road hypnosis toward the end of the trip, but that vanished as soon as we hit the lighted section of motorway.

I really can't get a handle on this illness at all. It kicks me in the nuts when I least expect it and eases off when I most expect it. Apart from the times it does the exact opposite. Ah well, time for my hour of sleep.