Mr. Fogg crosses the international date line and actually does manage to win his bet when he realizes it is Saturday, not Sunday. Lucky him.

My husband did not cross the international date line. He left Germany last Thursday morning when “engine trouble” made it “necessary” for his plane to land in Scotland. There were “no parts or mechanics” for their type of plane in all of the U.K., and so they sat awaiting rescue via another plane returning from a trip to Afghanistan. Until Saturday.

He complained bitterly about his horrible luck in being “forced” to stay in Scotland, when he would much rather be home with us. Just to pass the time, he went to Edinburgh Castle, saw the crown jewels of Scotland and St. Margaret’s Chapel, and learned how they make Scotch whisky.

But he had very little fun without us, of course.

And I’m not jealous, at all, because I happened to give up haggis for Lent and the temptation would have been too great, I fear.

And so, instead of an 8 day trip, it was 10 days. And instead of a 3 day weekend, he took yesterday off and had 2, which I’m sure that as he is staring at his desk right now for the first time in nearly two weeks, I’m sure he regrets, but not really, since he really did miss us.