I am finally home having finally completed The Return Trip from Hell.
At every point of the journey, from British Airways delaying the flight, changing their minds, me running for the gate, being told my luggage remained in Gatwick, receiving different stories from BA re luggage, etc, I am now sitting in my shed with Lambie and BeAnne.
Luckily, and only because I had some kind of premonition, I packed my Sheeple in my hand luggage. Even if my luggage never appears, at least I haven’t lost my hard work.
As I write, Lambie is in a bit of a state and is now fast asleep at my feet. He hates flies and I think has been plagued by them today. Poor Lamb is exhausted. I shall find some soothing music for him and give him some TurmerAid to calm everything down.
BeAnne, on the other paw, is thrilled with my arrival and apparently has spent the week down a rabbit hole, coming home only for supper and a daily bath (though you can’t tell it by her greasy whiskers). I think everyone is a bit fed up with Her Maj by the way they talk about her exploits.
Anyway, it is a billion degrees cooller than in Englandshire and I am heartily grateful for that. I do not do sun and extreme temperature very well. It has been a lovely week spent with my mother but after the Trip from Hell, I am very pleased to be home safely, even without my luggage. However, I am optimistic it may appear at some stage.
And this is the last of my foxy films, which I took this morning – he had the last of the Chappie and Mum’s stinky Camembert! I think he was waiting for me to arrive.
(I secretly wish I could’ve brought him home with me, though I think everyone else would be very unimpressed!)