I regained consciousness somewhere over northern Africa. I drank some water and passed out again.
I have had too much champagne and too much wine.
In my bag I had R30 left over from my last trip to South Africa in March. At Johannesburg there was only one thing to do with the money.
At 9am I nursed my aching hangover with a beer. It was cold. And it was bitter. Just heavenly.
I sat at Johannesburg International Airport in the same clothes from the day before, smelly, hungover and tired. Crusty and not having brushed my teeth for 12 hours.
But now I am here, 10,000 miles from London. I feel like the airforce, RAF.
Rough As Fuck but nearly home.