Still no sleeper service. So I had to haul myself out my sack at some ungodly hour after a poor sleep. And the bloody taxi driver kept up an incessant stream of observations about the traffic, oh yes, and how bad it can get at this time of the morning, Sir, chaos it is. Bear with me, Sir, I'll get in the wrong lane, don't be alarmed, it's the way to do it. Hold tight, here we go (I made that last bit up). Of course, it was quite quiet, as usual.
Still, I was soon in Great Tower Street, Treasury Operations. So much sexier than the usual, dontcha think? Home on the 17:25 - and Jeesus, would the taxi driver not shut up? He loves ferrying Rxx staff sez he, always a good chat - you get to know some of them really well. Linlithgow, Bathgate... some long trips. Let me out now - honestly I live here - yes on that verge.
Still, at least I was back home in time for the traditional Burns TV Supper. With Simon Schama and Deutschland 83. And a teeny tune from Edi Reader.