Abandoning ship...again

It's only a few days in Islington, and requires only the minimum amount of preparation (comfy shoes, layers of clothing, belated birthday presents for the Lovely Son), but the dog is in full moping mode already; I just have to think about a suitcase and she's off, following me round the house in eye-rolling misery. Once she gets handed over to Sandra, to be spoiled and indulged for a few days, she is instantly cheerful again, but I'm not supposed to know that, and should be feeling a lot more guilty and neglectful than I do. The two Kevins will be together again in the evenings (Sandra's sensible eldest son sleeps here and endures the cat's 5 a.m. wake-up calls) so I have no reason to worry. Though of course I will.

Meantime, drama and vile temper at the Lovely Son's; his boiler gave up the ghost some days ago. It has taken the landlord a full week before a replacement boiler could be organised, and while I was bracing myself to cope with boiling pans and kettles, the Lovely Son has been beside himself about the delay. I suppose it's bad enough getting geared up to have your mother come to stay, fussing as she does about the towels and the state of the fridge, without the boiler dying on you. The new boiler is supposed to be installed tomorrow, but I'm willing to bet that it won't be straightforward, and that the drama and rage will continue for a bit longer. I'm packing warm clothes for indoors....

I have overcome my reluctance to put scissors to fabric, as I realised how feeble and pathetic this was, and have made a stack of cushion covers for the LS's new flat, filling them with my surplus cushions, so am travelling light-but-bulky. And I have a new audiobook on the iPod for the 3-hour train journey - Juliet Stevenson reading 'Jane Eyre' - what bliss. (And you never heard Jane murmur a word of complaint about the lack of hot running water, did you?)