Incommunicado

So I´ve made it to South America. Nine days ago I was on my way to the airport in Panama City, but decided to stop by a hostel that fixes people up with yachts sailing to Colombia. Two nights in Portobelo (a tiny town, only famous for being sacked by the British in the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries - by Henry Morgan, Francis Drake and Edward Vernon) and six nights at sea later, and I´m in the land of narcotrafficking and great coffee.

The boat trip was in the long tradition of Caribbean crossings. Overcrowded, smelly, bumpy and with a lunatic captain. But on the plus side, more desert islands, dolphins and the deep blue sea. And it looks like I´ve missed loads while I´ve been away, like:

• British politics turned upside down - when I left there was going to be an election... (although as with most things, the great Peter Hitchens has got this one spot on)
• Boring boring England nearly doing it again
• Brighton unbeaten in five matches. Good Old Sussex By the Sea...

Off to try to catch the other rugby somewhere now, followed by Colombia v Brazil in the football. Here´s to Colombia, and a fiesta tonight...