Aug 1, 2019: Unready

Another Thursday, so it must mean games night.

And yes, it did. But not with me. I was otherwise engaged at work, so I didn’t get to move any meeple, roll any dice or lose spectacularly at anything (and everything). Instead, I got to lock people in rooms for fun and frolics.

Thursday night means it’s also getting closer to our road trip to Edinburgh and, as it stands, we both feel ridiculously unprepared for the whole thing. I’m sure I’ve usually made a decent in-road into packing by now, but other than making sure I’ve washed as many pairs of undies as possible, I’ve not done that.

We’ve not planned any random stop offs on the way up the country. We’ve not finalised the copious amounts of picnic food that is surely too much for too people to eat. We’ve not even torn the tickets into pairs and arranged them by day.

It’s blooming amateur hour over here.

I think part of it is that we’re such dab hands at it. I pack the bare minimum and Carole increases the volume of stuff she’s taking on a yearly basis.

But the best part, this year, is that we’ve put the cool bag (and, consequently, all the ice packs) away somewhere safe. And we’re not really sure where that is. If we don’t have the cool bag, our copious amounts of picnic food which we will eat on the side of a Scottish road somewhere, or in a car park in Seahouses, or hiding in the car because it’s pissing it down will be subject to the temperatures of the day. And we can’t have that.

I’ve also got new trainers – because I ruin my feet on a yearly basis with footwear with thin soles – which I haven’t worn in yet for whatever reason. So I’ll be spending tomorrow bouncing round the house in them, being all athletic and wotnot.

I feel unprepared. I think Carole feels unprepared.

But I can’t bloody wait.