Leavin on a Jet Plane

No doubt my Viking will tell me off, but I hardly think that one of you blog readers would raid my flat while I'm gone. If for some reason you are tempted, I have got people guarding the most precious cat, but I really would appreciate it if you could water the plants for me, inside and out. Pushing the hoover round will earn you lots of brownie points, as would doing the large pile of laundry I have quite got round to doing yet. Many thanks goes to Britswitch for keeping the cat company and to Gee's boys.

One of the many joys of going out with a policeman is the hours of home security advice. For some reason leaving my front door key under the flower pot by said door is verboten. I now shut my windows when I go out, despite the fact that I live in a first floor flat and my elderly neighbours (with whom I share the window cleaner) are perpetually vigilant. So you see, good sense is rubbing off on me, just very slowly. I still leave my front door open so the cat can sit on the doorstep and glare at the postman.

The other joy is a fuzzy, half-awake conversation while we're both in bed at 7.30 in the morning. Not very strange there you say, hardly worthy of a mention. However, it is when you consider, he's just done a full-night's work, I'm wishing him sweet dreams, he's saying he hopes I slept well, and I'm about to get up to face the day.

Anyway, I'd better get on I've got 17 To Dos that should have been done yesterday, that will have to be done before the end of business today. I'm not sure how much internet access I'll have, so things may go queit for awhile. I'll miss you, will try and send a post card.