“I’ll be up in a minute to tuck you in!”
In which we road trip and there are too many characters: the Cub, Badger, Bunny, Bunky, Powerjam, brother, sister, as yet un-nicknamed cousin, Nakiska, Flipper and friends. And, unsurprisingly, too much drinking.
“It’s aprés!” I laugh.
“You’ve never…? Oh wow.”
I have nailed this Heathrow thing, I think, as I arrive at the airport at precisely the time I had planned, being precisely 2 hours before my flight, stroll into the priority check in, make one particular purchase from Jo Malone and buy my favourite guilty lunch (Leon’s fish finger wrap, I’m so English now) and then the gate is announced and I take my bulkhead row seat and peruse the menu (one meal, 9 hours? Jokers).
Two vulpine greeters dressed in sleek black take in my outfit from top to toe….
The smell of burned toast and wet food scraps in the sink always reminds me of my time living in Canada.