Finally got the holiday plans sorted out after a concerted effort to get up at a decent hour. Eurostar to Paris on the 22nd, and stopping in a hotel at Montmartre for two nights, then TGV down to Lyon for three nights, another TGV to Avignon to stop off with dad for a bit, regional train / TGV combo across to Bordeaux for a few days, then finally up to Paris for another night on the way home. Should be fun. Until the bill comes. I hope we have good weather.

Only just finished booking all the hotels and trains in time to go to the airport to pick up mum and Andrew. Little did I know I was setting off far too early. It only took 40 minutes, even with roadworks and speed control, and their plane was late, so I sat around in the car for over an hour listening to Giles Brandreth interviewing Richard Whitely on LBC and ended up reversing over a beer bottle. I hope I haven’t punctured my tyre.

I did try stopping just outside the terminal in the pickup-layby, but they were all fidgety about that and kept moving everyone on after the plane crashes in New York. I guess it’s part of these new security measures they’re introducing everywhere to make things safer.

I took them home and we had dinner together while Jess was being all bashful and hiding from them under tables and around corners. They had brought me some fudge to say thanks for looking after the cat, and some other bits and bobs to thank me for looking after the house and watering the garden (even though they knew about the punctured hose :o)

We mooched in front of the telly watching rubbish and munching Toblerone and I put off for as long as I could actually packing up my stuff and going. It felt like I was the one whose holiday was finishing, not them. Looking back on it, it feels like ages since I’ve slept in my own bed, but hardly like I’ve been there any time at all. It was good to get back to the flat, though, and see my lemon basil is doing well for itself. It drinks water by the gallon, so I’d fully expected it to expire before I returned.

I managed to leave all my food at mum’s. Milk, orange juice, bread - the lot. Fool. Mum offered to drive around with it but I said I’d pick it up after work tomorrow.

Paul came around for tea and had to bring his own milk.

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