Ground Control to Major Dom

Tomorrow it will end. Tomorrow it will stop. Tomorrow time stands still. The clocks shall fall silent.

After 9 months, my badge will be switched off and I shall, as far as security are concerned, become persona non grata in the office I have effectively lived in for the past three-quarters of a year.

No lunch.

No computer.

In France, that equals non existence.

I shall of course write an obituary later on this week. But something struck me today. Like a meteorite slamming into a planet. I received an email from my university. Houston wants its Franconaut back.

But I'm scared of re-entry.

I'm up here.

Floating in space.

I have become one of them.

'Come on! When should I take holiday' Alok questionned.

I shrugged. 'Everyone takes holiday in August; literally everyone! Do it then.'

'I just want two days though.....' he replied,

'.....then take the 14th July.' Hardik suggested, 'Oh wait that's a Wednesday,'

'Then take a viaduc; forget this pont rubbish!' I announced with a flared Gallic hand movement and shrug combined.

Alex looked up from punching holes in a particularly stubborn piece of paper, smiled at me and laughed.

'Ah Dominic! You are now one of us. Only a true Frenchman would not settle for just one day holiday when he can have two!'

So after much space exploration, the (beautifully cooked) steak and chips supply is running low and the gravity of university is pulling me back to Bristol.

I have much to be getting on with, as you will have read in previous posts (http://domcovkid.blogspot.com/2010/03/election-elation.html), so I shall be giving space travel a break for a year or so. But when I look up at the stary sky from September, I shall always fondly remember my time in the cosmos.

So. As Alan Shepard, the first American in space, once said, 'Please, dear God, don't let me f*ck up.'

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.