Home

Very early start, and a very tired one too after a bad decision to share TallGirl's room in order to avoid Mr B's cold-generated super-snoring. I'd forgotten the kicking, whimpering and duvet stealing. Turns out that a particularly violent series of kicks was because she'd forgotten it was me and thought a burglar was in her bed.

So it was particularly ironic that I had to talk to the taxi driver all the way to Stansted to keep him awake, instead of the nice nap I'd been expecting to put me in a better state for driving at the other end.

Anyway, the flight was fine, with the pilot somehow managing to land the plane safely despite my having forgotten to initiate my normal death grip on the armrests.

And home via the one open shop (huge queues...) for lunch, lounging and (for me) lots of garden work. I fear my muscles will regret that in the morning. This dwarf iris has bravely fought its way through the weeds, which seem to have taken over in the two brief weeks I've been away. Lots to do...