Hestia ...does The Borders

Lovely!

The regular reader of this column may recall that Tartarus does not like using airports and therefore Sonshine and I have not been abroad with him, as a family.

Last December there was a marital upset here on Mount Olympus which included a furious demand (from me) that We Go On Holiday ABROAD to which Tartarus reluctantly acquiesced.

So, it is now October and we have not been abroad.  Tartarus has put the ball firmly in my half of the park - if I want to go abroad, I have to organise it myself.

I start looking at 10 days in Italy, only to find that in October direct flights to Italy are rarer than moments of lucidity for Donald Trump.  Adding in flights to London AND accommodation in Italy soon sends the holiday spiralling up the pound signs.

How I get ready ....

Me and Tom
Me: possibly having a mid-life crisis

I roll out of bed on a weekday morning when the dog stuffs his head under the duvet and talks to me in that peculiarly barfy-breathed greyhound way that either indicates hunger and/or pee time.

My night attire is usually by The Factory Shop (usually flammable) or M&S (usually flannelette) and my robe is a fuchsia pink fleecy number that caused Sonshine and my SIL to drop into quivering piles of suppressed laughter when I modelled it after birthday presentation from Juno in August.

I look like a particularly flamboyant flying squirrel in it.