Thanks to a late arriving aircraft, holding patterns over London, 45 minutes for bags to get from plane to carousel, and a hire car with no petrol in it, I was two hours late getting onto the M25 and so hit rush hour around the capital. Joy! It meant that baby Isobel was sleeping when I arrived, but John and Laura were a reasonable substitute and we had a tasty dinner of goulash and tart tatin - a very British meal.
This morning the baby rose and shone, a little dimly because she had a runny nose. Laura took her and me into Ely for a fine cup of tea (Russian Earl Grey, although I can't tell you what made it Russian) and then I tootled over to Woking to see Ellen and Meg, on to Colehill to see my in-laws, and now I'm in lovely Frome, the heart of the West Country. Thank goodness for unlimited mileage on hire cars.
Hmmm, somewhat of a different shape from my baby.
Laura has mothering sorted.
Americans, note: this is how you serve tea.
Don't let Peter see my unfaithfulness!
