Fly Home

Today was time to head back home in a cleaner but heavier car. We were seen off by a wonderful mexican wave from some of the villagers with Granny. The little ones did well in the car, though we had to stop earlier than expected at the hateful Watford Gap as Boy was a bit sick. We then went in to the restaurant for lunch were Boy was then a lot sick over me and the floor.

As he finished the throw a cleaner walked past. I asked him for a cloth, he assessed our mess, said nothing and then returned with lots of clean up paper. After we got Boy and my trousers in a state so we could stand without sick drips I started to clean the floor. It was at this point the cleaner spoke. He told me to stop. I told him he should not have to clean up after me and my lot. He simly laughed, scooped up all the sick paper, binned it and with a magical flash of his mop had cleaned it all up. I thanked him for his efficiency which in turn meant we kept our heads and Boy as happy as possible and then went and told his duty manager how good he was.

Safe in the knowledge that Aldondo was going to be getting a voucher we continued our journey home to watch Wiggo make his tour official, it made me want to wear yellow, and not just to get out of my sicky clobber.