They say writing is therapeutic – I certainly hope so. It’s either that or pop a Valium.

I’m writing this entry in the moment (but in the interests of home security, it will not post up until we’re back). But shades of the Italy trip (flashback HERE).

This time, it’s London for Christmas (well, in the interests of kiddy soccer, we’re flying back Christmas day). We’ll be meeting my sister and brother (with his wife and kids) for our London adventure. And already I’m having doubts.

As with Italy, everything rolled up at once. My boss of twelve years is moving to another team, so there was the luncheon and plaque to arrange. And there was the new manager to brief (how could they time this so he comes on board the day before I leave?). And there is the release of Early ReTyrement, which I had to place in screaming-transport-mode to get the proof in time to look it over and pay off the contractors. And we’ve got a train show coming up, one we’ve got to get ready for (we haven’t done a show in forever, so all the gear is scattered all over the place). And tonight’s the annual train club dinner, which I will miss. Yeah, all that.

In two hours, we leave for the airport. Then it’s parking, then security, and hopefully a calming Ruby Tuesdays visit (just to unwind, like last time). Somewhere along this mad day, I’ll hopefully let go, feel my back relax and my tensions calm.

Too much.