Hard-boiled twins

Americans will eat anything if it is toasted and held together with a couple of toothpicks and has lettuce sticking out of the sides, preferably a little wilted.

Bleacher are off for their annual picnic. It’s just me, Rohini, and (eventually) Harsh in a meeting room on the second floor. Even here there’s a cornucopia of comestibles. This workplace is better stocked than most delis.

We talk through TFTBOTR (6 trumps and 4Cs), their hopes & expectations, and the smallprint of CATP. And then we go to lunch. Back to Balden Street, this time to Cafe Tiramisu - an Italian. I have gnocchi with truffle and garlic cream sauce. Delicious.

I post a copy of my book to Michigan (no, not anywhere in MI) at a FedEx on4th Street and Frank collects me from the Airbnb (where I say a hurried goodbye to Mari & Oreo the cat ignores me). Frank is a builder of data centres, apparently.

The nice lady at the BA desk gives me a printed, TSA-Precheck boarding pass. The BA lounge furnishes me with a healthy Tanqueray and tonic. I slip into my Aloha shirt and count the minutes.