Alright, so I’ve made it home after the best part of two weeks in conditions so cold that, without multiple layers of clothing, you might die of hypothermia fast. Despite getting four hours or so sleep - the East Coast is about six hours away if you’re heading downwind - the journey from Heathrow to Suffolk was a bit of a drag.
But I started on the laundry, and once Ros had reached home too, we made a surprising amount of progress. The suitcases were unpacked, clothes sorted or put away as appropriate, and we were able to get to sleep reasonably easily.
What is increasingly obvious though is that I handle jet lag less well as I get older. In my youth, and even in my late thirties, I could almost disregard the impact of crossing time zones. Now, I feel sluggish unless I can get a decent amount of sleep, and it takes days to readjust my body clock.
Yes, I’ve learned some of the tricks - picking flights to suit my circadian rhythm, adjusting my waking hours a little at a time whilst I’m away, that sort of thing - but I’m afraid that I’m just going to have to accept that middle age is that bit less tolerant of disruption...
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