As we boarded the flight to London, the Gorse Fox observed yet again that there seem to be a lot of people travelling who a) should not be allowed out without a carer; and b) are not blessed with good looks, style or manners.
We boarded the plane and found our seats - clearly not in First Class (an oversight by the airline, no doubt). We all managed to rest during the flight - but the Silver Vixen and Urban-cub clearly failed to sleep deeply for long... the Gorse Fox, on the other hand was able to get several hours of good rest and sleep.
Back at Heathrow the usual early morning chaos ensued as all of the big long haul overnight flights arrived in close succession, disgorging thousands of weary travellers into passport control. We queued, as only the English seem to know how to do, and eventually popped through into the baggage hall. With bags retrieved in record time we headed out where Pistol Pete was waiting for us.
The M25 was in a benign mood and we got back to the south coast in excellent time.
Now it is time to sort the mail, the washing, and the photos whilst preparing to collect Jasper the cat and awaiting the delivery of our groceries.