I was supposed to make three trips out of my flat yesterday. I think the reality is that I made the second and then just forgot the third.
Trip 1: Take all the bin bags down.
Trip 2: Get the fire irons and put them in the car.
Trip 3: Go and get my bag with my diary, laptop and change of clothes.
I loaded the irons and drove away. No bag packed. I’ve only just noticed. yes folks I’m wearing the same pants I had on yesterday. I thought I’d left my bag in the car.
The car was so full of wood and mattresses that it was complicated getting the fire irons into it. I think I would have remembered trying to get my bag into it as well so I really hope that I’ll swing home tomorrow morning and find it there at the top of the stairs waiting for me. If not it’s a bit shit. Losing my laptop and my script and my diary would suck.
This behaviour is familiar to me though. I once went down to my car halfway through packing for a season at Sprite, just to look at the A to Z to plan my route – (long time ago now). I didn’t realise until I was actually in Yorkshire that I was a day early, my half packed bag was on the living room floor and my door was open. I paid my nephew to go get it, close the door behind him, and bring it to Greenwich so Jo could bring it up with her the next day.
So yes I can be an absolute airhead sometimes.
I blame the fire irons. They’re heavy and cumbersome. I thought they would come in handy here with Lou but they are kinda too big for here frankly so I’ll be taking them back when I go.
But tomorrow at 4am I drive Lou to City Airport. I’ll find out tomorrow whether I left my bag at home, in the lift, or on the street. I’m hoping it’s option one. I’m an idiot.
Nice being out in the countryside even if it’ll be a really early bed and early rise. She’s off to Luxembourg. I’m here to look at lines and stroke the cat.
