OUR BAGS are packed and standing in the hall, and we’re as ready to go as we’re likely to be.
We’re not bothering with a taxi this time; instead we’ve booked a room near Manchester Airport for the night and we’re leaving the car there for a couple of weeks.
This has the double advantage of being cheaper than a taxi and gives us an extra couple of hours in bed before reporting to the check-in desk at the ungodly hour of 4.30am.
I have to say we’re both in a bit of sombre mood this evening, considering we’re off on our summer hols in the morning; my general anxieties have rubbed off on My Good Lady, I think, and unfortunately I don’t feel in any position to be reassuring – although almost certainly things will work out perfectly well.
My trouble is, I’m so in need of a break, that I require a holiday in order to put me into the mood for a holiday.
It’s been a bit too long since our last vacation, and a stressful year to boot.
If we do nothing else but eat and sleep and read our novels for two weeks I’m sure it’ll still do us a power of good.
Fingers crossed!
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