Oh, it's nice to be back. The Air France flight from Brazil was without joy, crammed in the middle seat despite asking for the aisle, but setting foot on the cold, grey soil of Aberdeen was a happy occasion. Since that time, I've enjoyed drinks with my sister, visited Inverness and Dingwall, seen my brother, my mother and her fancyman, watched Ross County be awarded the Second Division trophy after a season of panache, drank lots of whisky with Varwell and my brother, bought lots of nice wooden furniture, flooded my kitchen by turning on my washing machine for the first time since I moved in, failed to start my dead van and... oh, other stuff too, I'm sure.
Oh yes. And I bought another flat, my fifth. I popped by yesterday afternoon, phoned this morning, and it was mine before dinner. This one's in a nice area of town too - the West End (!). It doesn't have hookers at the front door or junkies meandering the streets, but then you can't have everything. It does however have Green's flat just 30 second walk away, so daily raids can be made on his fridge. It's good to be home.