Tripped over the Hoover, then flew to Vancouver

I woke up this morning and as I dozed, thought to myself, 'hmmm - what's happening today then... it must be... Saturday, because yesterday was Friday... I can't remember... oh well, I'll doze a bit longer...'

My phone alarm started going off, so I snoozed, as I routinely do.  The alarm persisted, as if it knew something I didn't.  After the seventeenth snooze alarm, I picked up the phone and glanced at the screen, which proudly announced that it was, without doubt, Saturday 12th April.

This date rang a bell.  I'd had it in my head for ages.  'Hang on a minute', I thought, 'today's that day when I'm off to the first meeting of the Girlguiding delegation to the WAGGGS World Conference; I am going up to London to attend the first two hours of the meeting, then legging it to Green Park station, onto the Piccadilly Line to Heathrow terminal 3, where at 3pm I'll be flying to Vancouver where I'm transitting before flying to San Francisco, where I'm to find a green and white curb beside a bus stop from where a colourful bus will transport to Larkspur, during which time I shall call my sister who will collect me from said place, ready for my tiny nephew's christening during the Palm Sunday morning service at 10am!'

I leapt out of bed; my eyes met the enormous face of Jar Jar Binks, in rucksack form.  He's been on eBay for weeks, but has not yet departed.  He'll be back on eBay soon, fear not.

I darted out of my room, narrowly avoiding injury as I tripped over the Hoover which has been outside my room for a week now.  I haven't got round to putting it away.  What am I saying? I didn't even get round to using it.  It's become a bit of a feature now.  A bit like the ironing board - the front room doesn't look right without it.

On arrival at Woolwich Arsenal station, I wandered into the station  shop to buy my Saturday Guardian, which I don't feel right without.  They only had The Times and The Sun.  I spoke with a fellow would-be purchaser about the lack of newspapers - 'which paper do you buy?' I asked her; 'ooh, I can't do without the Daily Mail' came the reply.  That was a short conversation.

I arrived at Charing Cross in good time and opted to walk through glorious St James' Park.  Possibly slightly ambitious, given my convincing impression of an obese orange tortoise (caused by a 60l Vango rucksack strapped to my back), but I figured I'd be sitting on planes for most of the rest of the day.  There were ridiculous numbers of tourists taking pictures of  squirrels - yes really; grey squirrels.  There was also a couple practicising yoga in the bushes. I think it was yoga anyway.  I hurried on.

More soon - about to board.