And so it was that I completed the book, listening to some music on my MP3 player, and then tried to get some sleep. I must have slept too, since I was woken to find "breakfast" on the tray in front of me. It was a croissant, but I ate it as though it were food. Then I watched, and laughed heartily at, an episode and a half of Cheers and we landed.
The baggage collection and passport process were painful. Collecting the hire-car was exceedingly convenient. Seriously convenient. Very good.
I drove back to Reading to drop off my co-holidaying-type-accomplice and then got changed and weighed. I have put weight on. A noticeable quantity of weight. Damn! Was it just one week's stupid eating in America? Or was my body retaining a bunch of fluids and other contents which will soon dissipate? Or have I lost my dieting mojo? So many questions.
Changed and chastised, I headed to work.
Work was essentially a day of catching up on everything. Except eating. I couldn't really face eating, and it wasn't because I felt like I should stop eating as a result of my weight gain. My stomach wasn't complaining my appetite wasn't on, so I just didn't bother. Well, I nearly bothered, but the cafe wasn't serving food when I could be bothered and I reckoned they could stuff it, so I switched back to not being bothered again. Never mind.
I left the office and headed back to my house. Much work has been completed in my absence, and I have a housemate now, apparently. I had considered getting some food with him, but he was out in town for the evening and I didn't fancy that. I took my laundry over to my friend's house, picked up the bag I'd left there earlier and then headed home, expecting to have an early night.
With various friends to talk to, the unpacking to do, the scrabble moves to catch up on, and one thing and another, I didn't get myself into bed until 11pm. I had managed to live a relatively normal day, albeit a tired one. The holiday seemed like it was history already.