Friday, September 3, 2004


I'm done for the day unless any shit hits the fan. Gotta pack the Mrs. and . . . well . . . on the grounds that I'll get stabbed in my sleep, I'll leave it at that. You'll probably hear from me sometime tomorrow morning, once I get to my hotel in Kensington.

Just one thing. If you're the praying type, say a little one for the poor kids in that Russian school.

I leave you now in Gordon's capable hands until I get across the pond.

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