So, for me it is good bye to Slovakia and the Tantra mountains. In a couple of hours I will catch a train to Vienna. On Sunday I fly back to Blighty Gatwick.

I will miss the moutains. I will miss the hills opposite the mountains, which look like the Platonic ideal of those drawings and paintings of hills I attempted as a teenager.

I will miss the clinic and its partly incompehensible procedures - turf on my back, for instance, which I have learnt to appreciate. Just as I leave, thez seem to have started doing good.

I will miss the Slovakians bewildered goodwill towards me. Only the rip-off Bank, and the Church yesterday get my omata. Spelling?

I will not miss the terrible, over elabourate food. I have learnt to negotiate a reasonable compromise diet, but next week I will be preparing my own spartan recovery plan.

I will not miss the radio. I have already hear Moonshadow twice today.

And I will not miss this keyboard, with the y and z transposed, and no brackets or hzphens. But thats life.

What I will miss most of all is the pure mountain air.