Just now I was all psyched up to finish work early and go catch at train to the airport. I go to printout my flight details, and there it is in black n white. “25th Feb”. Could have sworn I asked for a flight booking on the 18th.

So I won’t be back in England till next week. I will have to ring my Brazilian lady friend and cancel our plans. I will have to email Tom and Mallinson and Peter and cancel the Saturday night pub plan. And I will have to go get drunk in Zurich instead.

Don’t you just hate it when that happens?