Toothbrush, check; slinky dresses for romantic suppers, check; sexy underwear, check; designer jeans and tops, check; killer cosmetics, check; shoes for every occasion, check; passport, check. It’s a bit of a crush for carry on, but the zip takes the strain; I reckon I’m done. This mini break is going to be something else.
Eight forty a.m., Gatwick Terminal Three. “I’m afraid, madam, there’s a sixty-five pound charge for excess baggage.”
“What? I paid less than that for the return flight!”
Bugger off! I had only packed the bare necessities.
I sighed. What was it to be now: fight or flight?