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Stansted this time, a complete mess of an airport with lots of building work going on, closed car parks, the minimum amount of security gates open that they can possibly get away with but a really nice sparkly new shopping area that you have no choice but to walk through.
I’ve got the delights of an hours flight north ahead of me and I apologise in advance if you happen to bang up against a really grumpy me in the flesh.
I’ve managed to lose the dress I was going to wear for the event I’m going to later, had an emergency try on of another (all fraught with the angst of will it fit as thanks to my knackered thyroid there’s a massive unpredictability as to whether something will or won’t fit from one day to the next) which will just have to do and now I’ve realised I’ve got to finish my grocery order off.
It’s all too frantic, disorganised and explains why I need my life back.

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