October 28, 2025- I am back at Home Base I. The story of how I got back, after seven weeks on the continent of most of my forebears, is a reflection on our times.

Up early, and bidding farewell to Apple Guest House, I walked to Harlington Village and found Premier Laundry. The kind proprietor took in my dirty clothes and said he needed two hours to get the job done. It was 9 a.m., so I spent time in the village park, doing devotions and reflecting on the journey now coming to a close. Breakfast then came, at The Flying Egg Cafe, a “breakfast all day” establishment that is popular with locals. The owners, from Pakistan, did a fabulous job with my “Airport Breakfast”, a lighter version of such full English offerings as “Lumberjack” and “Builders” breakfasts. I relaxed for about 1 1/4 hours there. By the time I got back to Premier, the clothes were ready, and I took time to repack my backpack, in th estore’s foyer.

It took two buses to get from Harlington to Heathrow Terminal 5, but I was there in short order. Check-n and security were easy, and I was in the cavernous area near the gates, by noon. Giraffe World Kitchen was too enticing to pass up, so I ordered chicken quesadillas, as today was a Tuesday, and that usually means Mexican food. (I knew British Airways would give us two meals, but there was no telling, at this point, how long it would take to even board the plane.)

Once the flight was posted, I made my way to the proper gate. Then, the first announcement came-“flight delayed by ten minutes”. It is never ten minutes. Any reason to set back a flight means that either there is a mechanical issue, a software problem or something is amiss on the other end of the flight. Two hours later, the boarding process began. The overly officious young man at the desk, who had taken to snipping at various passengers, was sent somewhere else and a group of young ladies processed us with fair dispatch. I later learned that there had been a back-and-forth between Heathrow and those responsible for air traffic control assignments in Washington-with our British hosts insisting on knowing for certain that the plane would not have to circle around Phoenix or be directed elsewhere, once the plane was near destination. That is what took two extra hours.

The flight itself was lovely. I got four hours of sleep, watched three films and enjoyed both meals. My seatmate, from France, has a home near Phoenix and told of his enjoyment of the Arizona desert. The first film, “The Salt Path”, with Jason Isaacs and Gillian Anderson, told the story of a chronically ill man and his wife who lose their home to speculators, then embark on a trek along England’s South West Coast Path, starting at Poole and eventually making their way to Penzance, Cornwall. It is a story of a terminally ill man’s triumph, through both the love of his wife and his gradual recognition that he had the strength within him to overcome the hardest adversity.

Next was an Indian film, “Bramayugam”, (The Age of Madness), which told the story of a folk singer who wanders into a mana (mansion) that is inhabited by a master, his cook and a “trapped” goblin. The “master” is fact the goblin, who has trapped the real master and has him in chains. The cook is in fact the true master’s illicit son. The story is classic good vs. evil, with a twist at the end.

The third film that came my way was “Doctor Sleep”, the sequel to “The Shining”. It tells the story of adult Danny Torrance, who has grown up struggling to hold down a job and even to live a normal life, following the death of his mother by natural causes, when he was 20. He continues to exhibit the “shining” (extreme intuition), and becomes connected to a young girl, who has an even stronger version of the shining. They are targeted by a group of vampires, who seek to dominate through gradually killing off anyone with such abilities. The story follows a predictable path, but not without a great deal of loss on both sides.

After “Doctor Sleep” came sleep of my own, then “dinner” (at 6 p.m., MST, over the plains of North Dakota and eastern Montana). We landed around 8 p.m., gathered luggage,then went through a surprisingly easy inspection by ICE and walked back to Terminal 4. I caught the 9:20 p.m. shuttle, having missed the van on which I was originally supposed to ride. As luck would have it, there was one seat left on the 9:20, and the person who reserved it was himself on a delayed flight. Thus, I rode back to Prescott and was at Home Base I by 11:45.

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end”- Dan Wilson. “Closing Time”