I’m on the train to go and see Cookie, Jo, Charlotte and any others of the Southampton crew that are around. Crew makes them sound the kids that hang around outside garages, and I think we’re past that stage now – heck, I’m sat here in sensible shoes with Nik Kershaw on the iRiver, I think hipness passed me by completely.
Anyhoo (anyhoo is my favourite new word, superceding recalcitrant), the train is blissfully smooth and quiet, easing my hangover. Lots of wine got drunk last night in London. I missed the LU posse (really sorry) as time flew by and it was too late by the time I thought to head over to Westminster. There we go again. Posse. That really isn’t the right word.
So the whole panic thing about going away has subsided… but I still can’t believe I will be India this time next week.