Here I am once again in my favourite Internet cafe, which I’m pleased to report still exists. It’s got jolly comfy chairs, which almost make up for the keys being in the wrong place on the keyboards. The lifesize* model of Lara Croft helps too.

But I expect you’re all wanting to hear about all the amusing incidents that coloured my journey. Shame there weren’t any then. The flight went smoothly, and they gave me a piece of apple pie, which was nice. I mean the fact that they gave it to me was nice, not that the apple pie itself was nice, though come to think of it that was nice too.

I don’t know why it is, but whenever I get on a plane I feel compelled to flick through the in-flight magazine, and today was no exception. I had an excellent book upon my person which I could have been reading instead, and I knew from past experience that the most interesting thing in the magazine would be the staples, but I flicked through it anyway. I don’t think I’ll be subscribing.

Then when we took off I looked out the window. I don’t usually do that on planes, preferring to cultivate the demeaner of a frequent flyer for whom such sights are old hat, so this was the first time I’ve really studied clouds close up. They’re less fluffy and more sort of stringy and fractal than I imagined. And there were surprisingly few old hats in them.

Then we landed in Hamburg, where I managed to shake off my boss and make my way to the Internet cafe, and thus my tale comes full circle. Tomorrow I get on the QM2 and divide my time between working jolly hard and trying to improvise some form of apparel that fulfils the dress code so they’ll let me mix with the posh people. I’m told the passengers are mostly rich old ladies, and I’m hoping to find one who wants a toyboy and hasn’t written her will yet.

*Well, some bits are lifesize