We hope that zombiness isn’t a permanent state, but it’s hard to be sure as we awake from our travel induced comas in the late afternoon. As we head off to stock up on some supplies from the supermarket, I remark to Issy that it feels like we’re in Europe. Hang on, that comment was a left over from Quebec. We are in Europe, which doesn’t do too much to ease any lingering concerns we might have about zombiness being permanent. Travel is great, well except for the part where you actually have to travel. Arriving at and exploring destinations really is great, but with airports the way they are at the moment, hopelessly understaffed, and the staff that are there hopelessly undertrained, the actual bit where you have to: (1) get there three or four
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