What's so wrong with waking up before dawn? Nothing, so long as it isn't you who has to go to Changi Airport for a flight to Mumbai, then endure a five hour wait in the domestic terminal for another to Goa.
"Packed your flight socks?" I ask.
He pats the front pocket of his rucksack.
I haven't asked him these questions in years, not since after the time he took the train to Gatwick and on the way realised his passport was still in ... er... Kennington. That was many moons ago.
Now he's gone and there's a cool breeze out on the balcony, and I'm just, well, chilled. And I'm going to do something I promised myself at New Year - to start blogging again.
There - I've done it!
More soon... .
and here's a taster - on the Mekong, December 2015