Twenty four hours (give or take) later and I am at Heathrow airport in London. With eight (and a half) hours to burn until my night flight to Tel Aviv.
As much as I love airports, eight and a half hours is a really long time.
At some point I started chatting up random people along the lines of "so, mate, where are you off to today?" just to get one of those man-you're-a-freak stares back. I guess nobody likes random chats, but poms - poms are terrified by them!!!
The good thing about time is that even when it doesn't fly it does pass, so by 10:30PM I was boarding my red-eye to Tel Aviv. The perfect setting to pop a Normison, put one of those camp eyeshades on and have a solid five hours sleep from take-off to landing.
Missed the lovely British Airways cuisine (chicken. always chicken) but got my beauty sleep to face that holy holy land.
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