Yes, I hear your sobs of anguish from here! At least, I think that's what they are, it might be next door's chickens again. So, anyway. I'm just letting you know. If you want to pop over to the blog when I'm not here, then feel free, I'll leave the key under the mat and the cocoa on the top shelf. You can even bring some friends, as long as you promise not to have a party, get drunk and leave unpleasant things in the bath.
I'm looking forward to it. That's the holiday, not you coming round and leaving things in the bath, I still haven't got the stains our from last time. My dear husband and I and a representative sample of children shall be flying off to the exotic climes of Slovenia, in whose language I have learned to say 'please' 'thank you' 'my hovercraft is full of eels' and other useful phrases. But before I can enjoy the splendour of exercising my limited vocabulary, I must negotiate my existential packing fear - is one cardigan enough? Perhaps I should take some extra extra warm clothes - just because the weather forecast for where we are going says it won't fall below 25 degrees even at night, doesn't mean I might not need a woolly. Or two. And will my wellingtons fit in the case? Particularly if I've got my full-body armour in there and my siege weapon. I mean, when the holiday season gets started you never get articles in the women's magazines about 'what to pack if you might unexpectedly travel through a sort of time-loop distortion thingie and accidentally land somewhere around the year 695' do you? I prefer to be prepared.
Some magazines advocate rolling up items to enable them to fit more snuggly into the corners of the suitcase. This won't roll, except forwards. It's most trying.
So, think of me, if you will, as I move inexorably towards the airport, towing my 397 tonnes over the luggage allowance, for which I fear I may have to pay a little extra. I shall see you all on my return.