Preparing

As I said in the catch-up blog a few days ago, there's a lot happening at the end of this week, but preparations really made themselves aparrent yesterday (and, yes, I know that Phill has been writing lists for weeks, but...whose blog is this, anyway)?

We (er, I) use our spare bedroom to change out of my working clothes and yesterday noticed that a suitcase was laid ready on one side of the double bed. This is the usual MO whenever we travel anywhere, but to see just one case is unusual and confirmation that Philippa is going to the US of A on her lonesome.

It's going to be strange having her missing like this and it's only the third time it's happenned since we got married (the other two occasions she was in Kansas on business and when we moved houses to and from Bath, that is). Whatever, it'll be odd dropping her off at LHR on Friday and coming home on my own. All together now....

The other bit of prep involved trying to get tickets for the rugby league grand final on Saturday. The ticket office at Headingley wasn't taking calls or on-line orders and was only open late last night ('till 7), so in order to avoid the stress of ordering them directly from the RFL, it was a case of getting to Headingley in plenty of time to avoid the rush of after-workers like me.

I left work at five on the dot and made swift progress (sorry, officer) up the M1 from Rotherham, arriving at Headingley an hour later. Hoping that the queue wouldn't be a long one I turned down St. Michael's lane and saw...not a soul! Had they sold out? Had everyone locked up and gone home? No, there were the open doors of the ticket office. I parked, then parked somewhere else to avoid being clamped, and wandered in.

Some boobs with a girl attached wandered over to the counter and asked what I wanted.
My killer response? "Er, two grand final tickets please". "We've got 'em behind the sticks" she said, from some distance further away than the rest of her, and after confirming that these were the only tickets left, I paid up and walked round to the club shop. There a bloke (no boobs) sold me a replica shirt and a real baseball cap for Phill to take to the US for a friend's son.

That's it. No photos this time - you'll understand why.