We were flying at half the speed of light! At least, that is what the pilot told us and who am I to argue with an expert? I still managed to miss my train from Manchester Airport though.

Before any of you ask, if you have ever been there: no, I didn’t get confused by their weird, number-letter combo with letter-changing platforms, at least, not until I almost missed the next train. The last time something went from an A to a B that quickly was in highschool.

From up above, the world sparkled like a New Year’s Eve outfit. At human level, a particular section of unusual sparkles suddenly made sense: Manchester Piccadilly was raining pink and green.

I’d forgotten how tiring travelling can be sometimes. Bed started to call out 5-6 hours earlier than expected. It’s the flying that does it; our bodies aren’t really supposed to experience that sort of pressure change. Although, the train sounding like a groaning snake battling its way through the night probably didn’t help either.

My sister picked me up from the connecting station instead of my waiting another 45 minutes for the next train. I was greeted with a big, warm smile and a four month old puppy. Both kept me warm for the rest of the journey.

After much chatting it’s time to call it a night. In the words of our knowledgeable pilot: “toodle pip”.