It’s a long time since I blogged. And, the longer you leave it, the harder it is to get back in the copy-saddle.
For some reason, I feel like I need to come up with something really interesting. Perhaps the passage of time makes me forget just how desperately poor my blog posts usually are.
Fortunately, a quick recap of previous posts is all it takes to reassure me I can just write any old guff.
So I thought I’d write whatever's in my head right now.
Which is that I’m meant to be going on a big extended-family holiday to Brittany on Friday, paid for by my generous in-laws. Except that my son’s passport hasn’t arrived yet.
And I bet you can guess whose job it was to get the passport, can’t you?
The enormity of my blunder only hit home in a call to the IPS on Friday afternoon.
As a result, I spent the whole of this weekend sat on the kitchen chair with my head in my hands, gently rocking. This was punctuated only by short trips into the bedroom to scream into, and punch, a pillow.
I know you’re thinking of all the lastminute measures I can take. Getting an emergency passport. Telling them it’s urgent. Getting on my hands and knees and begging. Don’t you think I’ve looked into it? There’s nothing.
All I can do is wait. And pray. Which I am doing a lot.
Stay tuned to find out whether I get the passport in time. Or whether my father-in-law takes a pick axe to my skull.