Poxit

We're flying to London tomorrow. C of course has picked today to get her first few chicken pox. She's been toying with us for the last ten days, having little mild fevers here, tiny pink blemishes that might just be heat rash there. Now the blisters have emerged under her hairline, over her forehead, down her back. I hope Ryanair mix antivirals into the aircon during flights. Surely they're that focussed on the comfort and wellbeing of their passengers.

It'll be nice to be back in London. Probably. Unless I have to explain racism to my children or avoid stampedes of quitting political leaders, as the papers lead me to understand is apparently the norm now. Kind of like Pamplona, is how I see it, only with more bullshit.

I listened to the new PM's inaugeral speech, talking about bringing all that lovely equality for Brits regardless of their social situation that her party has failed to produce for the last eight years. At least she didn't claim we were all in it together. It would be nice to believe it's all going to come true, I would really like to see that happen. But beware the ides of May, I suspect. 

Anyway. Bring it. Bring the infectious diseases. Bring the travel misery, bring the embarrassment of being a Brit in another EU country right now, bring the rain, the cancelled flights, the delayed trains, the closed museums, the missing zoos - bring it all on. I will take it on the chin, swallow my displaced teeth and smile through the blood. 

Raaa.