Last Few Hours

First of all, as promised a few photos from yesterday's adventures:

This is actually a visual record of the conversation recorded yesterday between Sarah and the Eurotunnel guys. Honest.

Next one is our subsequent stop at a petrol station. Best caption I think of is, 'now where the hell does this go...?'

Any other suggestions by chuntering?

Today has been a reasonably quiet day, fortunately. Sarah and Beth went shopping for nicotine patches ;) Sarah's threatening to fix the patch to the middle of her forehead in protest, which could be very cool indeed:

Otherwise I ordered a taxi for tomorrow morning. I was advised to shop around and get the best price, so of course I rang the first number and booked a taxi! The guy sounded amusing, and it was 75 squid which doesn't sound too bad either. The bad news is that we have to leave here at oh- five hundred. I say it like that (oh- five hundred), not because I'm anal. Cos I'm not. But because the guy I rang at the taxi office insisted on repeating it like that.

"So, we need to be at Heathrow Terminal 4 at about six o'clock, what time will you pick us up?"

"Heathrow at oh-six hundred?"

"Yes, six in the morning."

"Oh-six hundred?"

"Yes. Six. The number after 5 and before 7. If possible?"

"Understood, wilco. We shall meet and greet at oh- five hundred then, affirm?"

"You're telling me you'll pick us up at five?"

"Oh-five hundred."

"For f... I mean. Yes. Five o'clock in the a.m. Great. How much is that?"

"Seventy-five point oh-oh pounds sterling."

"OK. See you tomorrow. Thanks."

"Oh- five hun...."


See, sounds like a dude.

Note that I have also solved the internet problem. One of the neighbours has an unsecured wireless network, so by balancing the laptop on my head and operating it from the front of the house, I can get a good connection. So thank you 'little acorns' network whoever you are. Maybe it's the local children's nursery (they're often called little acorns, no?). There's probably a bunch of three year olds running around screaming and crying right now because they can't get onto the Michael Jackson appreciation website. Shame.

Otherwise, Lewis and I went for a run. Managed to get lost in the fields around here and now I have got the most annoying itching from the stinging nettles that we had to force our way through. Great preparation for an 18 hour journey; I'll spend the majority of my time scratching and moaning (Sarah points out that I didn't need the stinging nettles for that). Sarah also suggests that the best solution is to pee on the itchy area. Unfortunately the stinging nettles were rather high, therefore that solution would be a physical impossibility, if you get my drift...

So. Just the bags to repack. Then sleep, then up at oh-four hundred for an oh-five hundred pick-up. The taxi guy must have been ex-military thinking about it. I hope he's not the driver... hmm. Where's that phonebook...?