Joshua and I have been counting down the days to the arrival of the Mrs and Jayarani. All was planned to enable us to pick her up at Athens tonight. Joshua had even organised a pool party with the mad Guardian-reading lefties L&G for Wednesday to celebrate the reunion. We had tidied the Greek Hovel with the energy and drive of a swarm of bees and were preparing to erect the baby cot this morning. Then…
Last night as we spoke to the Mrs as she took a break from the wedding celebrations of cousin L, she said “you do know I am coming on Tuesday don’t you?“ “You sure?” said I, “It is Monday is it not?”
Naturally, the Mrs is correct. Her flight was, as I had forgotten, postponed and re-arranged. She has emailed me with her booking this morning just to remind me that she is always right about everything and I am always wrong.
Thank heavens for that call. You can just imagine Joshua and me making the three hour drive to Athens airport, hanging around, waiting and waiting and after a panicked call an hour after her flight was meant to land, discovering that the Mrs was sitting enjoying a bottle of post wedding prosecco back in Blighty. That would have been, to use Joshua’s new favourite phrase, a monumental schoolboy error.
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