Slow day

Busy morning: school office for various crises, shopping, admin, then painting outside to the tune of the Guardian Long Read Podcasts.

Suddenly, it was time to wash the paint out of my hair and dash off to the airport to collect Mr B - finally back in the right country.

And here arrives the slow part of the day. I totally understand the taxi drivers' problem with Uber, and I tolerate a 5 minute delay into the airport. But 30 minutes to get out of the car park? Enough already.

And I have to go back the airport tomorrow to take Mr B to his ski weekend. (To any fellow weekend skiers reading this, we have a cunning plan to avoid the protests...)