Morning Thoughts From A Devon Sitting Room: Wednesday, 11th. November 2026

It was dark; I was nervous – too on edge to notice or feel the cold. Did I have everything I would need? Too many things could go wrong and they kept reminding me, each thing, one after the other, over and over. Is there anything I’ve forgotten? Is there anything I could do without? Times and places were merging in my head; arrivals, departures, check-ins, seat numbers.

Early morning, 11th. November and my head was buzzing with the electricity of neurons firing across synaptic gaps; I was too wired to be tired. My wife had passed away over a year before and I was about to make a trip to visit friends and relatives; people who knew her at a time and in a way that I did not. I was armed with my brand new Sony mirrorless camera and lenses, my iPad and my iPhone 6S. This was going to be a journey that would not be forgotten, but I had all the gadgets I would need to record thoughts, people, places and events in word and picture. Lots of words and lots of pictures. Why? Because this would, in all likelihood, be my last trip abroad and, I felt sure, an emotional one. One where over time I might forget what I thought and felt in its raw immediacy.

I was at the railway station at the beginning of a 16-hour journey. The train was late. Only five minutes but this could be the beginning of a cascading effect that could… I didn’t want to think about it. The train would take me to Reading just outside London, where I would transfer to a RailAir bus. What if the train is delayed and I miss the bus? The bus would take me to Heathrow. What if heavy traffic delayed the bus? Should I have stayed on the train to Paddington and got the fast and more reliable train to the airport? What if I missed my flight? Too late now.

I was on the train, travelling light as always. Two bags. All the desperately important stuff about my person – passport, tickets, money. The train was making good speed. It’s okay. I would make it – at least until the next panic attack. Sixteen hours to go, and I would be in New York, late at night. Richmond Hill, Queens to be precise. Excitement gripped me and beat the panic attacks into submission. My glass was full and it was a particularly large one. I was going to enjoy this. I was going to merge with New York and love every minute of it.

These were my thoughts this morning – 11th. November 2026, recalling the events of this day in 2016 with minimal recourse to my diary of that day. I am pleased to say that, ten years later, my synapses are still firing away – and that my writing and photography back then are valuable triggers. And it was, indeed, my last ever trip abroad.