The day of departure is seldom straightforward for a journey, and so it proved on this occasion. Having spent the night at my brother's flat to ease the trip to Heathrow imagine my suprise the next morning when i found the front door bolted. The same was said of the sash window in the lounge. Cue panic. After a desperate twenty minutes attempting to unscrew the bolts with a useless RAC multitool to no avail. It was out into the garden to the fences. Residents in the certain gated community which i stayed (i'll respect your privacy) will be pleased to know your complex is as easy to escape from as Colditz, but four gardens later i spied an xbox controller wielding hand through a window. The shock on the man's face when a breathless, dishrevelled young man fell over his fence and stammered something about 'bringing his bags over' and 'needing to get out' understandably concerned him, but after checking with his wife, i was given the all clear and was Santiago bound, with hands resembling those of a pòrcupine owners. To be fair my relief at escaping was probably comparable to that of my brother's when he heard i hadn't kicked his window through in order to escape. More soon.