I'll be flying back to England this evening courtesy of Virgin Airlines (who, together with Air New Zealand, for those who don't need to bother about losing a day's pay, generally represent the best value for the route).
Indeed, this time round, while Cathay Pacific were charging in excess of HK$13,000 (they have to cover the costs of all those industrial relations law suits they lose somehow, I suppose) and British Airways more than HK$12,500, Branson's mob could do the selfsame trip for just HK$8,100.
I rather imagine posting will be light, as most of my readers, always excepting those who come here from Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Indonesia and Essex for "upskirt rim shots" and the like, are far too erudite to be interested in what I thought of The Lion King or Phantom of the Opera, or indeed of the Scousers getting knocked even further off their perch by the Hammers tomorrow. (Do they still sit on a perch. I wonder? Perhaps, like the Norwegian Blue, they have been lifted up and nailed to one - now on permanent view at the Anfield museum.)
On the other hand, I may be able to send reports and perhaps even some photos (if the daughter will let me use the camera that I bought for her) from such exciting places as Wirksworth, Scorton and Weston-super-Mare. Okay, Wirksworth and Scorton...
All it remains for me to do then is to wish one and all a very Happy Christmas and leave you with the tantalising hint that the latest in my series of "Best of" - we've already had Shakespeare and Inspector Morse, in case you hadn't noticed - is currently bubbling away in the dim recesses of my mind, ready to wow the book-reading public (both of them) upon my return.