Tuesday 27th February 2007

I never did tell you the whole story about my journey to England last week. It all began with my vet going skiing. So, he is off somewhere nice and I get to his office to find a locum about to put her hands all over me. I did the only logical thing and growled at her. Unfortunately, things went downhill from there, although, to be fair, through no fault of the vet. When we got to check in at 10am they said I couldn’t travel as I had to have been checked 24hours before I went. My mistress did the floods of tears bit and I just tried to disown her. We had got up especially early, by my standards, to go over to the hospital to sort out from my mistress’s aunt dying the day before, but all to no avail. We ended up spending part of the day sat in a car park outside a shopping centre with my mistress ringing people to make arrangements and me sleeping. So now we know I have to go between 24 and 48 hours before travelling. A little unrealistic but then that is the British regulations! It has always worked out before because we have travelled on different days and been to the vet in the morning. It is the first time we have gone on a Wednesday and the vet isn’t open on a Tuesday morning, only a Tuesday afternoon. We will know next time though. It is one of those things like the time my mistress forgot James’s passport, you don’t do it twice. Although in fairness they also forgot all the children’s passports on another occasion but fortunately remembered them after only half an hour of the journey. It made the “Are we nearly there?” questions a bit tough when the kids realised they were back where they started from, even though they had been for just over an hour.