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UNDER THE SUN
I'd like to give you an example of jetlag. But first there has been a small typing error, which I can't fix without major online jigging, on the Arizona postcard. I've been staying with James, Debbie and Ryan in a town called Flagstaff. You may notice that I inadvertently slapped on "FAGSTAFF". This has kept us all amused for days, especially has Flagstaff has in fact a fairly buoyant gay scene.
So - Monday morning I left Flagstaff at 930am arriving Phoenix 1245. At 215pm boarded a weenie plane to Los Angeles. Five hours later I'm on proper jumbo to Fiji. It's still Monday, early evening. This flight is only eleven hours...as we begin our descent into Fiji the captain suggest we might like to adjust watches to 230am Wednesday morning. What? - we cross the Equator and the International Date Line and my world has lost a whole day. The jetlag just gets worse. Most disappointingly I have to meander around the airport for another five hours until I can transfer to my island paradise. This is the first instance the two months of planning back in London has not been so bountiful. I was thinking/dreaming - fly in Mon - fly out the following Mon - one week in the sun to work on a nice wee base tan plus hoover up a couple a novels. Not quite, with odd flight arrivals and departures times taking there toll I only manage a four night/five day combo, a patchy lobster style glow and nigh on fifty mossy bites. Feels like I'm traveling though.
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