Years ago "manic panic" meant violently red hair or, on one memorable morning, waking up with a blue pillow and a blue-faced young man as well as blue hair. Now, sadly, it means full-on, for real, waking-up-with-a-pounding-heart manic panic. Things I am currently manically panicking about include, but are no way limited to, the pupster's failed blood test (requiring a new test to be carried out on Friday the results of which will take a week to come back from DEFRA and he goes to pre-flight kennels that day), my lack of visa, Sprout's lack of Australian passport, money and our lack of, time and our lack of... the list goes on and on.
Why oh why did this seem like a good idea and why oh why did I refuse to start preparing when TA was interviewing for fear it would jinx his chances? I wish someone sensible had told me the correct way to prioritise the to-do list - how was I to know that dog travel was harder to organise than human travel, which is itself much harder to organise than renting out The Sett. I did it all backwards, alas.