Well, she’s buggered off. Got to the airport exactly on schedule, which is rather handy because I missed the turn-off. In truth I probably could have made it but I’d have had to veer across two lanes to get there so I decided against it. Following a brief “Oh, I know what to do!” sojourn through Taunton, it was decided to just go to Bristol and then across on the M4 to London from there.
Yeah, so I guess I’ll not be seeing little sis for a year. I have mixed feelings. It’s good that she’s finally done it, because she’s wanted to travel since she was a kid. But I’m going to miss her, although purely in a very macho big brother way. Obviously.
I think my mother is rather more freaked out by the whole thing than me. But that just goes to show how silly mothers are. But Laura will really enjoy herself, and probably be much happier than she ever could be here, at least until she’s *been* there, if that makes any sense. Surprisingly there were very few tears at the airport. I’ve never been one for big shows of emotion in any case, but I was slightly worried that Victoria would burst into tears. (I have an irrational fear of women crying, because I just don’t know what to do with them. Generally I go for the all-too-male response of patting them on the shoulder and muttering “there, there” at them. Alternatively you can give them a proper hug, but this can be dangerous because either they can; cry even harder and make your shoulder wet, or; look at you with hate in the eyes and ask you “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” ) Happily, there weren’t any really spectacular waterworks, although there was a bit more of it when we were on our way back. I had to settle for a squeeze of the knee, there.
I’m going to go to bed now, though, because I have to get up pretty early for a funeral. Busy day tomorrow. Yay. And stuff.