Five years ago today, I landed in a remarkably functional London, given it had been bombed only the day before. We, on the full flight, were quiet but very awake, thanks to the guy in the row in front of me sporadically, but loudly, shouting "Free Tibet!" during the flight. I had a lot of luggage, and some of our many boxes had already arrived, with remarkably alacrity.
Five years later, and I still live in England.
Sometimes I idly wonder where the protester these days, and why, two hours from the end of the flight, he suddenly felt the need to share his cause with all of us. Sometimes, I wonder which of the still-packed boxes in the loft are leftover from that move, for when we finally have a bit more furniture and room to unpack them.