I’ve packed my suitcase, which was at least a day earlier than I usually do and I’ll probably regret it, wondering if some particular thing is in it or else needing something – though the latter isn’t likely, as nearly all the clothes I’ve packed are new ones and all the toiletries are duplicates and the shoes are sandals, which I’m certainly not wearing here at present. It was cold and windy enough to stop me cycling into town, which was lazy of me, I suppose, but just about justifiable.

I’ve got a hygienist appointment in Norwich tomorrow morning, then I need a couple of things in the city centre. I might call on Rose on the way home, if she’s well enough. Poor Rose had an attack of labyrinthitis, a couple of weeks ago and isn’t over it yet. It can take a few days or a really long time, or anything in between – I’ve known all those situations.

Other than packing and not shopping – though I went into town, I couldn’t find what I wanted – I haven’t done much. I’ve got a mental list for tomorrow, especially applying for entry to St Lucia, which you have to do within 3 days of travelling there. I’ve checked into the hotel and they know that Rhonda will arrive first, so that’s okay. I need to transfer essentials from one handbag to the other, but I’m really pretty well done. Boarding pass to the plane is 24 hours in advance – I could have done it earlier, but they wanted £54 to reserve my seat and, presumably, it’d be the same on the way back and no. I’ll just sit and watch films and read, I don’t care enough for £108 on a £600-something ticket. I’m very good at ignoring everything going on around me or else being friendly enough to a pleasant neighbour.

Haven’t caught up on everything else I’m supposed to, but it can all wait, assuming the plane doesn’t crash and none of my family knows what on earth was in my mind. But the plane probably won’t crash.

Oh, I won a Premium Bond prize. £50. I’m tremendously excited. Well, a bit excited. Pleased.