Weeeed

 Mr B was up and off pointlessly early for his Eurostar (pointlessly as it was delayed, making him hours late for his meeting).  My flight, on the other hand, was bang on time (once I successfully found Orly, which took a few goes).  Home has never looked so welcoming, and I have probably never been so tired.  But for the man with the explosively loud cough next to me, I think I would have slept the whole way on the plane (as a rule, I don’t sleep on planes as my firm grip on the armrests is the main thing keeping the plane in the sky – you’re welcome).
 
A series of naps interspersed with unavoidable emails, then picking CarbBoy up and straight out for me with a couple of friends for dinner (yes, I am winning all the awards for parenthood just now: haven’t seen my kids for 2 days, see them for 5 mins and then dash out partying).  Lovely meal at a local restaurant I’ve not tried before – we’ll certainly be back for more of the deep fried tempura salmon.  Oh my.  Not a late night, and with only a teeny glass of wine, but very enjoyable indeed.
 
Mr B arrived back very very very late.  Two hours after he should have been home, I phoned the car hire at Toulouse to check they would stay open (he was still on the tarmac at Heathrow at this point).  To my delight, they did, sparing me a late night trip!