And then...

So now I make another effort to bring you up-to-date on the goings on over the weekend.

Yesterday was a little calmer, but was by no means a later start than Saturday was. We had to get up at 7am. Hello? We'd only gotten to bed at 1.30am, how's that meant to be a decent rest?

But there was a reason. I wanted to go to the airport with both sets of parents to see off the new Mr and Mrs Bro on their Honeymoon. Alison, dear love that she is, did not mind having to get up at 7am to be able to do this.

Somehow I ended up leading the convoy of cars (all three of them) to Heathrow Airport, which, as luck would have it, was about 10 miles away from where Mr and Mrs Bro had been staying. Good job it was only that far, as my petrol light came on as soon as we left their Hotel.

Heathrow was chaotic, in the utter and total sense. Somehow we managed to drop them at the Set-Down point then fill up with petrol and then find a parking space without anyone's head exploding through frustration.

Locating the newlyweds inside the Terminal Building proved a challenge, mostly because they had chosen to hide themselves behind a Bureau de Change. Finding Starbucks was more straightforward, as is usually the case.

Other Britons may have noticed that Heathrow featured in the news yesterday. Yes, it was hot, but we left Heathrow about 4 hours before it hit the magic hundred. Mr and Mrs Bro should also have taken off by then too, so we all missed out. Thank goodness. Still, it wouldn't have mattered so much anyway, since no one was wearing three layers then.

On our trip home we had to make a detour to return said three layers to the crap suit hire place. Once that was done, my duties for the Wedding had all been discharged. This proved a problem, as now that I had no duties left, I started to relax. My body was hunting sleep bigtime. After a brief lunch stop I started to get drousy and probably carried on driving for about half an hour longer than I should've done before getting Alison to take over - since she was asleep herself at the time that's my excuse, but I'm well aware that that's not good enough.

Once we got back, we both crashed out for a couple of hours, then spent the rest of the day in a daze. The most surprising thing was watching Ep 4 of Taken and actually feeling sympathy for Owen Crawford. Only a tinsy-winsy little bit of sympathy, but sympathy nonetheless.

Today has been spent in a similar daze. I was pretty useless at work, although I think eventually I managed to accomplish a few things.

Early night tonight, I feel.

Blurgh.