Make yourself at home.

I get home late Tuesday night after a dinner that was ridiculously late, thanks to the Belgian police and my inability to read signs. The dinner is dreary. The food isn't good, but it's better than the company. I get home at 2 a.m. and I can't sleep. Goodness knows why.

I wake up Wednesday morning and sit for an hour on the Brussels ring road. In this hour I drive about five kilometres. During which time I drive past Brussels airport. But I'm not heading there am I? Oh no. My flight is conveniently booked from Amsterdam airport. I have a new person at Head Office making my travel arrangements. Suffice to say, it's not going well.

I drive to Schiphol. I get there too late for my flight but the lovely people at KLM find me a seat on the next one. In four hours' time.

So, I sit at the airport for four hours and I work. I catch up on emails, speak to my boss and generally do good things. But I have to say, by this point all I want to do is sleep. If I got three hours sleep the previous night I'd be surprised.

Anyway, my flight boards and I find my place. I plan to sleep. The woman next to me wants to 'chat'. I'm not in a chatting mood. I'm in a sleeping mood. Surely my closed eyes and reclined seat tell her this? Apparently not.

To make matters worse, my plane is going to Geneva. This was a last minute trip and the Lyon flight was full. It's a two-hour drive home from Geneva airport, through the tail-end of the Jura mountains. It's a clear, cold night and the Jura are covered in snow. It'd be a beautiful drive if my mood ring wasn't glowing dark, dark, black.

Eventually I get home. Knackered. Broken. Desperate for sleep. It's midnight.

I drop my bag in the lounge, undress in the bathroom, clean my teeth and go to my bedroom.

Mark is in my bed. Well, I suppose he did tell me he was coming to Lyon. I just don't remember ever having given him a key to the apartment.

I get into the bed. It's comfortably warm already and it's good to have a body to lie against. I sleep.

I wake up late this morning and Mark is gone. Such was my tired and worn out state last night that I wonder if I dreamt the whole thing.

I stumble into the living room. He's left me a note saying he'll be back at midday. "can we do lunch? I still need to talk to you. Mark".

And so another day in paradise begins. I go back to bed and sleep some more.