No more sleeps!

Yippee, today we are off. or if you want to be pedantic, tomorrow we are off at 12.50am but as we are heading to the airport today, via dinner with the Belly and Zig I reckon today is close enough, although again not accurate if you consider that possibility of plane sleeping, cos that might be another one...but fuck it it's close!

So I slept well last night which is most unusual. I thought I'd be stressing about getting up and washing sheets and shit, but no I must have been pretty calm, and I will tell you why I think this.

My before waking dream went like this.

I was in Paris. I'd entered a cooking contest and the preliminary stuff was people cooking up banquets for the other contestants, to show off or intimidate.  I'd dutifully attended a couple and then decided that it all really wasn't for me....what a revelation! even in a dream I don't want to cook.

So I hired a pushie and took off into the peak hour traffic. It was exciting. The cars and trucks and buses were frantic and I just tootled along trying to mind my own business, but when I came to a 'Time's Square' type intersection I was in the wrong lane and so really upset the locals. Luckily for all, the lights turned red to match the colour of the faces all around, and I stopped and waved and laughed and shouted gleefully, 'It's ok I am a foreigner.'

This did not go down too well so I pulled over into a side street and momentarily lamented that I was going the wrong way for coffee.

But I rode along this little side street and enjoyed looking at the close packed strange looking houses until I came to one where the front door was open. Never being shy about things like this, in I strode. There was a package in the mail box so I picked it up and opened it - yeh definitely not too shy, and inside was some strange wooden sculpture like a long pipe with a number of bowls except that the bowls had not been carved out so more like spheres on a branch. Anyway, as I stood in the  lounge room I became aware of very loud snoring. Too nervous about getting caught or smacked over the head with a shovel by an angry old bloke, pissed cos I opened his pressie, I legged it outta there and flew onto my bike and went looking for a loo.

How often are really cool dreams interrupted by the very real need to pee?

If this all means that the plane is gonna crash, well please just don't tell me. Advanced warnings of those sorts are not welcome. But if it predicts a long lovely adventure with no cooking then I will be a happy girl.

London here we come.