Panic

It's almost twelve o'clock. In four and a half hours I've got to be packed and ready to go. The dachshund needs to be walked, the work that's going to follow me north needs to be sorted, I need to make sure there's enough kindling for the Horse Doctor (who's staying behind for a couple of weeks), and a thousand and one other things are battering at my addled brain.

What happened to the week?