My internal clock (and my computer backs me up on this) says it's 2:12 am, but not here in Reykjavik. It's about 7:20 am here, still dark, still chilly.
Not much is happening in my little brain. I don't have full brainpower, running on stolen moments of sleep, which might be a problem when it comes to talking to Customs and getting my Visa in a few hours, but I've got Icelandic coffee and a favorite actor of mine reading an audiobook in my ear, so I should be awake by the time I get to Heathrow.
Sidenote of amusement to me: I like a comedy radio show called Cabin Pressure, which is about the antics of a charter jet crew, starring that actor I mentioned. Well, one of the less-good episodes (they're all good, but some are better than others) is entitled Boston and the story takes place in the air between, get this, Boston and Reykjavik. This amused me when it came on my iPod earlier.
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