We’d only got as far as the M56 when the above text arrived from our daughter who we had just dropped off at the airport. [Actually not strictly true as she doesn’t do text-speak and does do punctuation, at least not when communicating with pernickity parents, but that would have made the post header too long.]

Whether the authorities always suspect young people of carrying drugs or they were simply bored on a quiet Tuesday afternoon, they were not going to find anything on Miss P, unless you count the menthol crystals she’d been advised to use to clear a head cold prior to her flight.

Airports eh? It’s certainly not the sort of thing you’d expect on National Express Coaches.

The trip to Heathrow was the first leg of her much longer journey to Cape Town where she will spend the next two months teaching in one of the townships. It seemed like a great idea when she first hatched the plan, but speaking as a parent [never thought I’d say that] I must admit to some feelings of trepidation on packing her off to the other side of the globe.

But it is also mixed with a tinge of pride that our little girl has grown into a fully fledged adult more than capable of travelling 6,000 without mum or dad to sort things out. On her own. [There go those butterflies again.]

We thought it would be a good wheeze if she filled in her visa ‘purpose of visit’ as the World Cup and to ask when the next game kicked off, but immigration officials the world over are noted for their absence of a sense of humour, so we scrapped that idea.

She should have landed safely in SA by now I’ve been hunting round for a suitable video when I came across the one below. Not entirely suitable under the circs, but I for one didn’t know that Ridley Scott had used the battle cries from Zulu in Gladiator. [It’s true.]

Nobody’s prefect. If you find any spelling mistakes or other errors in this post, please let me know by highlighting the text and pressing Ctrl+Enter.

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