Left work half an hour later than I’d planned due to fuckwittery, however I’d factored the half an hour’s fuckwittery into my leaving time so I still had plenty of time to make it to Liverpool Street to catch my train. Yay trains! Yay first class! Brian informs me that apparently there’s a first class lounge with free tea and coffee at Liverpool St, but not on the train. Bah. No plug sockets, no tea, no coffee, no trolley service, nothing. Just a slightly bigger seat and an obnoxious man frowning at anyone of a different colour in front of me. He was from Yarmouth, which I think says it all. Spent 5 mins ranting about how much property prices were in London and then 5 mins amazing us all with the huge sums of money he could extort for a one bedroom flat in E14. Without even a trace of irony, the fool. Arrived on time in Norwich, wandered out of the station and up the hill to Stracey Road, as I had an hour to kill and fancied seeing my old place. Took some photies (which will shortly arrive on flickr). Waited for the park and ride to the Airport, got on, apparently it was the wrong one, but the driver said he’d give me a lift to the correct stop. Got off again at Castle Meadow, much changed, much the same. The shops have different names but there’s nothing very different about it. Got on the correct bus and handed the driver the little present the previous driver’d given me of a return ticket. Arrived at the airport at about 19:15, found my brother and borrowed the shower in his room. Jesus. I think you need a degree just to work it. Pressed a button and water shot out the sides at me. Eventually worked out how to get the correct showerhead (there were two of them) to emit hot water. Came down again feeling much better and a lot cleaner, but oddly stressed. Giggle. The party was fancy dress, although I failed on the fancy part of the dress. Shaun was Forrest Gump. Had a beard, a hat and a box of chocolates and spent the evening jogging everywhere. My godson (who is almost taller than me now. Grr.), Oliver, was James Bond. I think Mum and Andy were 50s gangster and 50s gangster wife. Katie’s mum was the Vicar of Dibley and her stepdad was Homer Simpson. Etcetera. Dad arrived before Mum and Andy, so chatted to him a bit. Erected my tripod and set up my camera in the corner so I could take some pics of everyone. Took a photo of me, Dad, Mum and Shaun that led to Katie getting all weepy and running off. People really shouldn’t value family as bizarrely as they do. My family is my family. Most of them are my friends, the ones that aren’t simply don’t get my attention. About three people told me that Dad was only there because I’d come and he hadn’t seen me in so long. Personally, I’d have preferred it if he’d have been there for his son, y’know, the one getting engaged an all...and his fiancee, the one whose 21st it was. Hope Shaun wasn’t too pissed off about that. Considering quite how many exes there were about, there wasn’t any real tension, which was good. A few little points where things could have gone the other way were manouvered around and all in all it was lovely and fluffy. Oliver got drunk. Which was funny. I think he’s about old enough to be able to come stay with me next summer, so I shall suggest that to his mother. Dee is well. Much better than anyone expected. Much better than a year ago. Her cancer may actually be in remission, something that her doctors are stunned by. Somebody with secondary cancers doesn’t usually get better, all they can usually do is control the cancer with drugs. They’re taking her into hospital to take tissue and then they’re going to monitor her and if nothing else grows in 5 years she’ll be given the all clear we took a minibus back to Mum’s, Oliver telling us all loudly that he’d never been drunk before, everyone else disagreeing. Got back and chatted a bit then bed at 2am. Woke up on Saturday at about 7am, the camp bed and the lack of curtains combi