Return to Blighty

The honeymoon is over. At 5.12am precisely, for me.

For Tiger, not yet. Running into the garden in total joy to dig up the unicorn she buried last August is, for her, the culmination of nearly nine months whining, complaining, and periods of plain bonkers.

I have noted, however, that the IhateHongKongIwanttogohome routine has lessened in the last two weeks. That could either be due to her awareness of impending dates and times, or it could be that in desperation I have been fooling with her brain and slipping drops of Vitamin D3 into her tea. I have Mac's assurance that it is like a natural boost of sunshiny happiness.

Actually, to coincide with our glad return home, we are all on some form of medication right now. Dig normally hits the N-acetyl-5-methoxytryptamine so that he can look awake in the company of serious people, rather than channel the hobo economy-travel vibe that circumstance and his gutter-class family have forced upon him. Squirrel meanwhile has become hooked on some strawberry chewy vits, and Shark needs the inhaler which she left in Hong Kong (prompting first trip to doctor within two hours of being in house).

As the Primary Nurse for this Emergency Travelling Hospital Unit I have convenient access to all meds so am quietly knocking back the Piriton to prevent the allergic reaction to my own domestic interior.

Dust, cellar mould and monstrous creatures that are bigger than the Eiffel Tower (if you put them under a microscope) are lurking here, waiting to kill me. First they will blow my nose off. I know because they have done it before. Really, I would like to pick up the entire house and put it through a wash cycle, if only the washing machine would work. (It does not, but keeps good company with the dishwasher, boiler, oven, and toaster.)

But I see that Eli and Mr W who have been looking after the assemblage of dust and broken stuff that we are proud to call home have done a sterling job. They have removed the car battery, ripped out the bedroom carpet, disposed of the fridge, and even acquired a new key after our neighbour came and changed the front door locks. So they deserve a chip supper, incidentally the other item that Tiger has been pining for, alongside a horse and a semi-rotted unicorn.

So that is it. The news report for today. Normal domestic interior, non-working stuff, a trip to the doctor and family medication to cope with it all. Hurrah and Welcome Home, Grit.

See the actual excitement of international travel

And how I know we are home. Thanks, Tesco.