And then we say Happy Trails to John who will go on to enjoy an extended trip to Ireland with Marty. Their wacky adventures on the Emerald Isle remain undocumented but the morbidly curious are directed here to demand full disclosure.
Whittled down to a party of four, we have a few good hours to kill before our flight. With fewer pounds to spare than Posh Becks on a diet, we decide to pass our time where there would be little chance of us spending any money at all. Naturally, we choose Harrods.
Once again, we have to be selective with our photography as most everything here is a "design original" which is a great excuse to apply price tags that look like telephone numbers. Obviously, they are concerned at the possibility of us taking a snapshot of their Jimmy Choo originals, then running back home to our sweatshops and start pumping out Gimmy Poo knock-offs.
No one seems to mind so much down at the food hall, though, so that's where most of our photies ended up coming from.
Of course, the idea of eating any of this stuff is patently ridiculous. It's way too pretty and to be able to afford any of it would probably require taking out a loan of some sort.
(Click on the yummy treats for embiggenment and a closer look at the prices.)
As we're leaving, Robin spots the coolest thing ever. It appears to be the bastard offspring of a pair of stilts and pogo-sticks.
There's no doubt that I'd be fitter if leaping and bounding were offered as a pedestrian option. In the future, we will all travel like this - it's the only safe way to get off a flying car.
After lunch, it's off to Hyde Park for a long slow amble around all that pretty green. It feels like we're in limbo now - looking forward to home, but NOT to the 18 hour journey to get there.
With our time effectively murdered, we head towards Heathrow Airport where the next two hours are spent in queues waiting to be probed, poked and prodded before we're declared safe for flying. This time, they're especially worried about carrying liquids on board which means Gem is forced to bin the bottle of water which is keeping her alive.
On the flight home, there's sleep aplenty for me and none for Gem. We part ways with Robin and Girly in Singapore as they prefer to spend the night there rather than face another 6 hour flight. Gem and I, however, can't wait.
Because Coming Home is, as always, so very very sweet.
(This isn't actually us at home - but it's the one of the nicest photies from our trip's final day.)
Next: Well, we're home now and have been for quite a few months. If you clicked on John's link above (or here if you're too slack to scroll), you'll know that his gallery is up and running and well worth a visit if you're a Perthling with a penchant for pretty pictures. The rest of us are back on the treadmill and gunning it like hamsters, looking forward to the next escape attempt.
Without any more trip to blog, I'm not entirely sure what to do with our little spot on the web. I assure you it won't be abandoned like the last time. I'm not a diarist either, but once in a while stuff happens and it's nice to have something to look at after it does.
So, what I'll aim for is slightly more frequent blogging but with shorter posts, perhaps.
To keep y'all amused in the interim, I've just added a brand new widget up the top that keeps track of the stupid stuff I find on the interweb.
Stay tuned for more, kids....
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