Two feet under

Early, too early. It turns out that if you go to bed at 2.30, and have to get up at 5.30, it's not going to be a happy morning. Particularly when the previous two bedtimes have been brought to you by the number 4.

Twenty minutes spent searching for a wallet that was already in my bag wasn't best use of time. But we were soon underway, with farewells to our sleepy friends who were off to chase the Tour to Paris. Despite the expected chaos on the roads, we were soon at the airport, an uncharacteristic two and a half hours early. I think we'll go back to the just-in-time approach to airport arrival, particularly as it turns out that briefly panicking about being late for the flight stops me focussing on the plane crashing.

Anyway, finally we arrived and had an amazingly easy and efficient public transport journey 2 trains and a bus) to Shepherd's Bush - they should have the Olympics here more often. Lunch and a nap rejuvenated me sufficiently to be more than monosyllabic for a sunshine and showers trip to collect my godson from his last day of term. And the kids played under piles of cushions. Now there is fizz and a barbie to come. And probably an earlier night....