Ready, steady.....

Not quite Go! yet. But nearly....

Today we played at being normal, ie not doom-prophesying, fretful, and racked by anxiety. The Lovely Son dug enough of the allotment for me to plant 3 rows of potatoes which were chitting on the windowsill, and whose sprouts would have flagged before my return, and some garlic. The dog and her bedding have been washed; she has had her fringe trimmed so that she can see my luggage better, and is having a major mope. Poor little thing, it's bad enough when just one of us is leaving, but the LS goes away tomorrow too. I tidied the kitchen to within an inch of its life, then we ate up some leftover curry, and generally messed about aimlessly till it was time for the online check-in facility to open in British Airways' virtual world.

To my relief, they appear to have allocated me a decent seat, by a window in a row of two, with a cot point opposite - it seems rather unlikely that they would put anyone else's baby in a cot opposite my seat, so I'm assuming that I will have some decent legroom. Shame about not having decent (i.e. long) legs to fill it with. I could have changed seats, but this one seemed fine, so I left it as allocated, and hope I will be proved right.

After this, I calmed down a bit, having worried neurotically about being stuck in the middle of a row, as I once was on a trip to India, struggling with claustrophobia I didn't know I had until that flight, and/or about being next to the loos, with very large people in the the queue taking turns to lean on you. Lovely niece Laura had such a seat on a trip from Toronto, and complained so vigorously about it for the next month that I now think of it as a fate worse than death. Or the cause of a new phenomenon: Air Toilet Queue Rage.

Suzy and Lesley brought going-away presents, which I shall photograph and show you, and you will then be able to visualise what I shall be doing on the journey, exhorting other passengers to join in, bribing them with sweets.

Cat news and domestic chaos

For the followers of Kevin: I am thinking of changing his name to Lazarus. He was given a very positive report after half an hour of tests at the vet's today, and he behaved astonishingly well throughout, grumbling a bit but not fighting, and certainly not creating the Lake of Protest again. I have been told there's no need to worry about him while I'm away; he's even gained some weight.

The Lovely Son arrived today, to cluck in despair over the state of my PC, the endless and unsorted list of bookmarked websites, my dismal failure to remember computer jargon or to understand what a browser is and how it differs from a server, and many other gross deficiencies of intellect on my part. I receive exasperated lectures along the lines of "Look, this (something or other) is on your desktop... Firefox just lets you (something or other) ...and it's all stored on your computer! ...and that (something or other) is a storage device....and you're not downloading, you're transferring!!" and then he bangs his forehead on the keyboard in utter despair at his eejit mother. I can feel myself ready to swoon in fear and loathing at how instantly forgettable it all is, like the rules (I know, they're laws, not rules) of cricket .

But in return I cluck in despair over the instant chaos and disorder that arrives with him; the clothing bomb that explodes silently within moments of his rucksack being set down, always in a place where it becomes a major trip hazard, the fridge-raiding just before a meal, his easily-triggered swearing, the creation of countless half-finished mugs of tea, and many other gross and eejit-like deficiencies on his part. We get on very well together, obviously.

Travel terror continues to strike me from time to time, although Shelagh and the Lovely Son between them reassure me that all the electronic ticketing stuff works really well and that I have everything printed that I will need. Something else is bound to go wrong, I just know it.....I will walk through the crowded airport clad only in a skimpy vest and dying of embarrassment.....oh no, that's the dream we all have, isn't it......