The Wine Widow on chaos ahead of a holiday.
I am anxious about the sweet peas (about to hit full throttle) and Zam is anxious about the vines (heatwave followed by rain = potential trouble) but we are committed to a holiday in Spain. The day before we go I wake up deaf in one ear. This is not unusual. I ring the ear clinic who tell me the audiologist is also going on holiday tomorrow and there are no appointments. A text pings in from our daughter: Can you talk? As she has just arrived in Greece this cannot be good news. In fact I know, as soon as I read it, that she has lost her passport.
The passport has indeed disappeared somewhere between the airport and the B&B.
I abandon my online search for an alternative ear clinic and enter “emergency travel documents” but the main focus of the day remains trying to book our son’s university accommodation for which he has a timed slot and not a minute before - we tried. (Whenever I recount this to anyone they say “like buying tickets for Glastonbury” to which I nod although in truth I’ve no idea.)
My own jaw is now pretty much on the floor. Not least because that puts paid to the three rule. “Jesus,” I say, “and you’re on my flight.”