I'm home.... just about.... after the journey from hell. Breathing in Richard Branson fumes for six hours thanks to a faulty Virgin train and constant hold-ups from Small Childs on the track is NOT my idea of a nice ride home. I feel terribly, awfully ill now, my head is pounding and my limbs are aching, and my throat is too sore to speak.
But, you know what? It was so worth it for the wonderful weekend we had :)
And, yes, this may well be the shortest diary entry in the history of the crumpetty world, but I just wanted to poke my nose in before I return properly tomorrow night. And I guess we know where the Iraqi information minister has been during his time of absence - in my guestbook, apparently! Hee hee! Oh, and I had a google for 'Never Mind Braithwaites'! Huh? Am I not the only person who's been calling it the wrong thing?? Intreguing!
before I go and crawl into bed, I have one last thing to say, and that is - 3 years ago today my life changed forever, for the better, and I have had three wonderful years of happiness because of it. Happy anniversary, my sweetheart - and thank you for the wonderful weekend! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Right, bed is calling. So are painkillers. Goodnight, everyone :) xx
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