Have Weetabix ...

Another alarm call at sparrow-fart and another food-less trip with the useless British Airways to Edinburgh. But I get to see Katie for lunch at Harvey Nichols (and we both emerge alive) which is wonderful.

Back home to Barcelona, laden with real tea (can’t get a decent cuppa here), DVDs, books and Weetabix for Ben. I feel a real pillock carrying the cereal on in my Sainsbury bag, as if I can’t survive the weekend without it. ‘Expecting delays are we sir?’ asks the security man at Edinburgh airport. .