Meet my cats. The tabby is Skippy; the black one is Paddington.

You may well wonder what I’m doing awake at 01:30 when I have to get up in 3 1/2 hours, to fly…. well. It’s lashing with rain outside, and the big one has come in. The little one is drying him off, while he warms himself…. In. My. Bed. Where – until moments ago – I was sleeping soundly, warm and dry. Don’t be fooled by the mutual appreciation in this picture. These cats are dicks.

07:01 am. Still technically ohmygoditsearly o’clock.

I’m halfway through the train that’s taking me to the plane. A very sleepy Freya and her very kind boyfriend dropped me at the station, where I picked up my tickets.

I carefully stored the return portion with my visa and travel insurance (in a plastic wallet that might as well be labelled ‘DO NOT LOSE’) and thrust the outward ticket…. somewhere. Picked up my backpack with a real “I’m a proper traveller now, bitches” swagger. Walked to the ticket barrier.

Couldn’t remember where I’d stashed the ticket.

It’s all going swimmingly, so far… 🤦🏼‍♀️