T5 Romance

B has been away for a few days, gadding about in Barcelona with a friend.

I always think there's something romantic about about being met at an airport (by your loved one I hasten to add, not by a shifty looking fleet driver in leather blouson brandishing a grubby laminate and body odour) so I levered my sorry carcass off the sofa and failry hopped, skipped and jumped, sat on the tube with people with massive suitcases who don't understand tube ettiquette to Heathrow Terminal 5.

Now I have a lovely warm fuzzy feeling to show for it - absence does make the heart grow fonder.