The drama kicks off about 30 seconds after saying goodbye to my dad, when rifling through my bag for my passport I discover there has been some kind of chocolate explosion in the main compartment. I would have cleaned it off but depending on how desperate I get over the next few days I might have to resort to licking it later.

Next I set off the alarm at security, as usual, and was directed to what looked like a combination of the areana tubes from the hunger games and the time machine from Austin Powers and was forced to hold a ridiculous pose for what I'm sure was just the staff's amusement.

I finally get on the plane and one look at me and the very glamorous flight attendant points me firmly in the direction of the peasant class downstairs. But blow me - a double decker plane for a start! Peasant class with acres of leg room, cushions, TV with 1500 channels and as much free alcohol as I can drink will do me just fine thank you very much! Especfially when my neighbour tells me it's 3000 quid for a ticket in first class.

I'm sat in the window next to a friendly man on his way home to Zambia, so we have several pleasant conversations about African wildlife, London theatre and fish & chips. We are lucky enough to enjoy a good 30 minutes of the smoothest take off and flying i've ever know before the baby 4 rows ahead starts wailing. Copy and paste for the next 7 hours so I stuck my headphones in and watched  Cool Runnings,blubbed my way through Les Miserables and lightened the mood with 5 episodes of Friends.

The baby was still crying when we prepared to land.

STILL at work! Honestly, this has been a long nine months...

Main concern at the moment is how to fit 4 botttles of intensive conditioner into my already chock full rucksack. Despite warnings that I won't care once I'm knee deep in Zebra poo I'm convinced that frizzy unmanageable locks will hamper my enjoyment of the whole experience so I'm determind to fit them all in somehow.

Update to follow...

I'm still at work...