Grabbing my last minutes of blogging time. Husband has taken George to the kennels: I can't bear seeing his little face as we walk away and leave him shut in a cage! So I'm pre-posting his birthday photo ready for tomorrow. But we have celebrated already.
We're off for a week in Corsica. I was meant to be looking at hotels in Sardinia so how we ended up self-catering in Corsica I'm not sure but it looks very charming. I'm just hoping the weather will be fine: this last week, according to the internet, they've had rain and storms most days. It will be better next week.
I've showered and washed hair and removed hair - even in places usually hidden by skirts - and am ready to go now. It's a good job we don't go on holiday everyday: it's such a palaver. I have to resist the urge to pack every item of clothing in my wardrobe - just in case. How likely is it that I will be required to re-clothe a whole village made homeless and clothesless by some terrible disaster in the next week in Corsica? No, that's what I thought too, so I've tried to be sensible.
I was (still am as the suitcase isn't locked closed yet) tempted to take my scruffy sloppy wear-all-the-time-around-the-house cardi because it's comfy and snug, but I mustn't. Tell me I mustn't.
It'll be fine once we're in the car and on the way. I stop caring then about what I may have forgotten. Tra le la.
Younger Son gets back from three months in Ibiza while we're away so he'll collect George. I'm wondering how much mess he can make in the gap between him getting home and us getting home ... ah, well, it'll be good to see the boy again.
Have a good week while I'm away!
P.S. I'm going to try and read The Time Traveler's Wife again on holiday. I mean I started before but couldn't get into it so I'm hoping a more concentrated reading time will be helpful.
P.P.S. Right, must switch off now ...