Somebody might wave back

A less early start to today's trip to the station, once all the bags had been packed and a courier booked to pick up a box of what wouldn't fit in. Despite losing the car hire place we did eventually make it to the station, in eager anticipation of our train journey where (travelling first class) I had promised the kids a proper lunch. Sadly it was not to be. No hot lunches over Christmas :(

So, with crisps, biscuits and all our Christmas sweeties to soak up the red wine and tea, it is proving nonetheless a festive journey. Internet is slow enough that I can read a chapter of my book between pages loading, which suits my slow-travel, mixed media mood, but must be infuriating if you have to get any work done.

Mr B will meet us in London and shepherd us to Chiswick for the start of phase three of our holiday, which promises to be a fabulously exhausting mix of socialising and shopping (shhh - I haven't told Mr B about the shopping yet). Actually, in the interests of balance I should say that a used garlic crusher wasn't my only gift from Mr B. he also bought me a variety pack of Galaxy chocolate and assisted the kids in choosing two rather lovely gardening books. And then there's the present I bought myself from him that he thinks is a subscription to a gardening magazine, but isn't.

And all I got him was some pink salt.

Usual prize of eternal smugness to whoever gets the musical title.