It's a bit like catching a bus
So I'm off to Italy for just two days. So often have I travelled there during the last three months that it feels like a non-eventful short trip somewhere outside London – and so it should be, considering the ridiculous cheap fares.
OK, so this time I splashed out in order to be able to travel on a Saturday and not have to take Friday off (yesterday's Government's reshuffling meant it was the busiest day of the last four years at my job).
Still, this weekend's ticket only cost slightly more than what I blew on a single night out last weekend. Scary.
It feels good to be able to catch up with friends and family whenever I feel like. This time I'm going to see my mother, because during my last trip there with Dr B. I only briefly saw her at lunch twice in four days. She did not once voice her disappointment, but that crushed puppy look on her face made me promise I'd try and go just a couple of days to be with her only.
The words 'passive-aggressive' and 'Catholic guilt' inevitably spring to mind.