I'm in London, still

Well this is it: on Monday night I'm jumping on a plane headed for Australia. I won't be home straight away; that would be far too direct a route for me.

Instead I'll be sunning myself on a beach in Thailand for a week to rest after my gruelling eight months of doing absolutely nothing at all.

All this procrastination should have me home in Melbourne around the tenth of November.

I'm already taking suggestions for a suitable location and time for the "Ally's Back and in Ridiculous Amounts of Debt" drinks night, where the only charity I'll be asking for is a glass of beer donation in exchange for all the stories that were too risque for the Ally'sTrip.com mailing list. What really happened with the Bosnian nymphomniac? Did I give in to curiosity at the Budapest bathhouse? And did I practice what I preached when convincing evil dictatorships to "make love, not war" while interning at the UN?

There's only one way to find out.