Arriving at Heathrow rather blurry. And coda.

The pilot was so pleased with his new A380 Airbus he told us all to enjoy it. Enjoying planes isn't really in my repertoire but this one had a webcam on the tail whose pictures we could watch on those tiny distractions of screens in front of us. I watched us take off from Melbourne then discovered that during the 21 hours that we were chasing darkness round the world all we'd be able to see was the light flashing on top of the plane. But at least there was more light at Heathrow.

Very many thanks to all you loyal folk who've come with me on this fascinating journey even when I've neglected your journals. I'm going to do some catching up over the next few days. Especial thanks for the comments, stars and hearts I've failed to thank you for individually.

I have absolutely no idea what my camera and I will be up to from tomorrow.

Coda

The water bottle that the taxi-driver gave me as I left Myanmar/Burma accompanied me from that day until three days ago when, very battered, it fell out of my bag as I was getting off a tram. I ran after the tram for two stops and jumped back on but couldn't find it. I had to do a little Myanmar-style readjustment about things you know for which there is no physical evidence. In one of the ironies that abound in Myanmar/Burma the brand was Lucky. I have been, enormously, unlike its people. There was a lot I couldn't and can't write about the oppression and tenacity behind their generous smiles and a lot more that I never got to see or hear. For those interested - please be interested - in these fellow humans of ours I recommend Finding George Orwell in Burma by Emma Larkin. It's about why she and many people there see Orwell's Burmese Days, Animal Farm and 1984 as a trilogy about Burma, so you probably already know more than you think you do. Every one of us should know.