And They’re Off, again.

So, with a hop, skip and a jump we go from the profound but bleedin’ obvious to the banal.

We are off to London this morning.

My heart is soaring.

My body is an entirely more sluggish affair.  I’ve been wrestling with a head cold all week. I have a stiff neck which gives me the shambolic poise of Frankenstein’s monster, and I’ve got PMT that is giving me the air of a provoked lioness. I apologise if you are scheduled to meet me over the next week.

My advice would be to poke cake in my face. If that fails, throw a blanket over my head and run while the going is good.

Despite my obvious handicaps, the fact that my hair has decided to model itself on a Matt Lucas impression of Andy Warhol and lack of any charm whatsoever, I will attempt to make the most of the trip.

The children and I have been excited about it for literally months now. As ever our to do list far exceeds the number of hours in every day, and there are going to be things that simply have to be shunted onto next year’s list. We do like to be ambitious though.

As well as all the things we have planned, we also have many friends planned, which is just as joyful. We’re kicking off really early this week, by having a lunch date for today.  I told you we were ambitious.

The other thing which excites me about our trip is that it always signals the beginning of Bake Off season, and this year is no different.  Luckily for us, there is a tube strike scheduled to start on Wednesday night, so we have an entirely plausible reason for having an early night of it, and curling up with Paul and Mary instead of going to see the Complete works of Brecht in a disused car park in Wapping.

Ready, Steady, Bake…

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