Michaela drops me off at the airport and we kiss goodbye: it’s going to feel a little odd being apart for a few days having been welded together on our travels for so many months. Adrian climbs out the back of the car looking more than half asleep, but then it’s so early that it can’t reasonably expect to be called morning yet. We’re booked on a red eye flight that’ll be in the air before the birds are; Adrian came down last night as we live much nearer to Gatwick than he does. “At least with me here you can’t go to the wrong bloody airport” he grunts. We’re…