Bleak prospects

A lousy night, swamped with that sinking, ‘back to school’ feeling, and a bleak morning, unpacking, rehashing, squeezing and repacking. Alarm when I started on the on-line check-in – where were the travel docs? Stowed before setting off down south, but where? Memory failed.

HH and A. were off to first match of the season at Anfield. I want to go one day, just to hear a full stadium singing “You’ll Never Walk Alone”, but today was due to take the daughters to Ikea. So in feeble hopes that inspiration would strike one of us before we returned, we set off in our different directions. In the store, I trailed round like a zombie after Thaisa and her mother-in-law, Sheila, who were basically window-shopping, while Chiara took the little ones off to the playground (Phil had wisely stayed at home).

Back on the Wirral, I was summoned to collect HH and pop round to see the great-nephews before their bed-time. Then back to Thaisa’s for pasta, retreating early to resume the document search. I was walking wounded by this time and longing for my bed. No inspiration whatsoever. We looked six times in every likely and unlikely place, then I gave in and unpacked all the cases, knowing that the docs weren’t in there. The embarrassment and expense of missing yet another flight loomed huge, but finally Audrey flipped the lid of the oldest case shut and found the wallet in an almost invisible outside pocket (zip hard up against a leather trim) – the only one we hadn’t looked in endlessly. The relief is HUGE. I think I might sleep now (HH never has a problem).