I never actually got round to posting again about my trip in November. I definitely need to get a handle on this apathy business. I do have a job now. So I’m in London City airport, which is a total dump by the way, with the exception of the weegie on the bar who is good chat. He’d better be, to be honest: I have a pint and it cost me £5.70. Christ. The departures board is above my head, and it says “wait in the lounge” in an irritating English accent. Well not really, it just has a message there, but I FEEL like it does because I’m Down South. Do all my Scottish friends really have to put up with me sounding like this lot? I’m sorry, guys. They’re putting me on a tiny propeller plane to Duesseldorf, which when we’re over Deutschland gives me an experience in common with quite a lot of people about 70 years ago, although of course I’m definitely not to mention that again. The flight down to Lahndahn from Edinburgh was full of posh people in tweed checking in rifles, which must mean work starts again in the City tomorrow. I didn’t have a rifle, but a minor bit of “bumbling academic” at the check-in staff allowed me to get all the way to the gate with my guitar before I was informed that the flight was packed and she’d need to go in the hold. She’s supposed to be checked all the way through to Duesseldorf, but I’m nervous anyway. I hope she’s okay. I also call my guitar “she” when describing her, which helps. Or makes them think I’m mad. I like to think it’s the charming end of mad, but I never usually stick around long enough to find out. But, of course, now I’ve left Scotland. It was pretty emotional to be honest. I even have some pipe music on my music player which ended as the wheels left the ground. It totally could have been a music video for some cheesy nationalist pap. Beat that, Salmond. Nonetheless, forward! Auf Deutschland! It’s gonna be a blast, and I’ll keep this updated with my wacky adventures as often as I can. I have to now, though, because I’ve told people about it.