distraughtI had a rather uneventful journey home, except for one thing: the lady at the check-in counter was a total Nazi and she made me give up my beautiful L. K. Bennett shoebox, although I should probably be grateful she let me keep my L. K. Bennett bag and shoes -- all because my hand luggage was 28 grams over the 5 kilo limit. It was only later, when I was in the departure lounge still reeling from the shock, that I realised that if I'd taken out the 2 cans of Bisto I carried for a friend and switched them over to my suitcase, I would probably have been allowed to bring the box. It was small consolation to me that several of the other ground stewards on duty there oooh-ed and aaaaah-ed over my shoes, now revealed in all their glory, in kind sympathy.
Oh, and before I forget: did I mention we saw Alan Rickman, in the flesh, in London 48 hours ago?
