I'm in the airport, waiting with a glass of red wine before we board a plane to Faro. It took 5 minutes to get from check-in to security. One of the benefits of rural airports, I guess. I've been barred from posting anything on social media, because the mother-in-law is worried people will see a post and burgle the house/pub. Oh well. Not that I posted anything aside from photos of scruffy cats or languid hotel room selfies.

Although I couldn't bear the idea of going anywhere abroad up to a day ago, I'm finally looking forward to the trip, to the idea of curling up with a novel and a view of the sea and no other claims on my attention. Especially after being ill for the past three weeks. My friends on this trip are Clarice Lispector's Near to the Wild Heart, Sally Rooney's Beautiful World, Where Are You, and Kathleen Jamie's Surfacing.

<<