I had a very pleasing email this morning. My flights have been booked and have an escape route back home! (Now to coerce someone to pick my up from the airport…) Not only that but they are… *deep breath*… not economy class! This will be the second time in my life that I’ve flown business class; the first being at the age of 15, and I really can’t remember much about that. My in-laws kindly paid for my ticket with their air-miles, so in a few weeks time I will be sitting in the lounge, waiting to board and to be served champagne! (Do they still do that? I hope so…)
This means, apart from finally going back home, that the Uterus of Doom has approximately 6 weeks in which to sort herself out, before I set Lovely Gynae Woman on her. I’m fairly certain I’ve seen Lovely Gynae Woman doing a very good impression of a rabid dog, when faced with non-behaving gynaecological organs in the past, so the Uterus of Doom should be very scared. And hopefully get her act together!
I am still waiting in for Evil Landlady, who didn’t show up yesterday. I have just consumed a lunch of barbecue-flavoured crisps, as we have nothing else in the flat to eat. Well we do, but it all requires a functioning hob in order to cook it. Damn our exploding hob and Evil Landlady.
On the plus side, no more used condoms have appeared on our balcony overnight. This is good.