Monday. Heathrow.
I could have taken the transit - a train not a van - but chose to take a solitary stride around though the deserted depths of Heathrow past murals of Queen Liz and Philip, Wimbledon strawberries and Oxford boats - all things English?
After 10 minutes of an eerie calm I emerged into a gush of travellers pouring off aforesaid transit and soon was away with 499 others on the first leg of my journey to sunshine and warm weather, to find my neighbour Harriet in Honolulu.
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