What a day to go flying across the Atlantic; if the pilot is out on the tarmac apron kicking the tyres on the aircraft, I think I'd better miss the flight.
Not to worry, I'm not superstitious and Friday the 13th is not exactly a day rooted in demonic myth but rather the Vatican. A Pope of yore ordered the massacre of various crusader knights whom his holiness felt had become too big for their boots. I think they were called Cathars and were located in southern France while this piece of Papal banditry took place on Friday the 13th and the date has since been synonymous with bad luck.
Sod the superstition as I'm looking forward to cool air, decent tea and excited mutts at home as in less than twelve hours I should be back home in the UK.
It's been a little weird to be honest, so much has been accomplished but in truth the only substantive thing that matters is Emily and we haven't seen each other at all.
No access; no telephone calls; no talking; no playing; no laughing; no time in any shape or form.
Winston Churchill said, "Success is the ability to withstand failure time after time and carry on."
Someone else said, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again in anticipation of a different result happening."
Thank you to everyone who has helped make this trip possible and I'll be back.