Kevin had fetched me from the airport alone, what with it being very silly o'clock. The drive to his house looks much like it did last year and en route Sal calls, so I answer his giant comedy Trigger Happy Samsung thing. We're not stopping anyway but going straight home. Unlike last year I am far from brutally hungover, in fact I don't feel bad at all, but my original "I've beaten jet lag totally!" boast has given way to a huge amount of yawning.
At the house I am eyed suspiciously at first by my youngest niece, Harriette, who then proceeds to say "why are there two uncle Darrens?" and is beaten to the first hug by Sal. I say hi to all the girls and then there is a very blurry hour or so which ends with me being presented with a clean red towel and everyone disappearing to go get breakfast and a movie, while I catch what I believe will just be a couple of hours sleep.
I wake 4 hours later when everyone gets back. Huh. Maybe I hadn't quite escaped jetlag. Still, it's only just gone midday. I'm given a long sleeved shirt present - there is lots of "aren't you cold?" going on - and out on the deck I shove Alex and Harry around, mainly towards Kevin and back, on skateboards. I'm told I have much smoother hands than their dad. Score one for the Cathay Pacific/78 percent hand cream.
Then we decide it's time to go get pie.