These were my closing comments for the Tottenham Hotspur blog, as I typed away in a Heathrow hotel. I was up early on Monday 9 December, and soon wolfed down a breakfast. I made my way to nearby Stanwell, where my friend Ian β whose daughter Ella had taken my spares at Tottenham β had very kindly offered to provide a parking space for my car while I would be in Kazakhstan.
Ian dropped me off at Hatton Cross, and I then double-backed on myself to Heathrow where I caught a 9. It was worryingly cold while I waited at the bus stop at Heathrow, and I began to wonder how I would cope with the colder temperatures in Almaty.
It is a well-travelled journey for me; Stansted is often a departure point for European adventures. I was soon checked-in at the gate for the first part of my mammoth journey.
First up was a three-and-a-half-hour flight to Istanbul β Constantinople for you Jimmy β which was set to leave at I spotted a few Chelsea faces, around ten, who were on the same flight. I had been contented with my planning for this trip. I was awake for the approach and was able to set my eyes on the glorious lights of Istanbul and the Bosphorus to my left.
I just made out the lights on the bridge that I walked across in The plane was buffeted in the wind as it approached the airport, and the landing was rather bumpy.
