Why I booked myself on the first flight from London to Rome at 7.30 this morning I can't for the life of me explain -particularly as there was a second flight at a much more reasonable 10.30. As heavy snow was forecast overnight it meant getting up at 4.00 and leaping in a cab from the hotel by 5.00 at the latest if I was to play safe and make it to the airport in time. Naturally, I was awake on the hour,every hour,all through the night looking out of the window and checking on the weather to see if there would be a replay of the storms that closed London down totally earlier in the week. The end result was that I got to the airport after a sleepless night at 5.00 and had two and a half hours to wait in the terminal- the roads were clear and deserted so the cab sailed straight through,I was the first at security and the flight was of course on time to the minute.
Was greeted by two twenty kilo bundles of fluff when I got home. Is there anything to match the enthusiasm , undiluted happiness and devotion of dogs when their family is reunited? The look on Wilfs face in the second photo says it all.