The Thought that Counts.

"Sometimes it's not the thought that counts. It's the cake." - Me.

Heheheh, back from the states now with an inbox full of panic. "I haven't seen you around for a while, you're not retired, are you?"

No. Not retired. You could have been forgiven for thinking as much though as all reference to escorting vanished from my profile as I was 'in the US but advertising escorting services in the UK'.

Mary was 'meeting me at Heathrow'.

You can imagine how that went. Last time she did that I told her not to turn up with the dog as they aren't allowed in the airport. She turned up on the train with the dog anyway and we both got booted out onto the tarmac, me with my luggage, wondering how to get home, as the train was now out of the question. Even though dogs are allowed on Heathrow to Paddington trains, soon as you set foot on the platform you aren't allowed back on and have to go *through the entire airport you are banned from* rather than back on the train, which you are not banned from.

Why anyone ever lives in this godforsaken hole I'll never know. Anyway Mary is turning up to meet me. Except I get there and she hasn't. I call her.

Unilaterally, she'd decided to go to Kings Cross, minus dog this time which was something, and await instructions. In case the plane was late. I'd texted her the flight number, but aparentley visiting the internet to find out how my flight was doing was all too much, that time of day. No, I'm supposed to sit on my suitcase at Heathrow for two hours while Madame wends her stately way down the Piccadilly line.

I get a train then a cab from Paddington and pick up Madame on route, but this 'meeting me at Heathrow' has to be up there with the last Cake Incident.

It is good I have a witness for it, as I saw it with my own eyes and still don't believe it. Harrison was there though and assures me it is true.

Mary had been out on her travels, met us in Patties cafe, and texted me beforehand to tell me what a nice present she had bought for me. I was going to like it very much, oh yes. I was going to be ever so pleased with my present.

When she got there, she handed me an empty plastic bag. A purple one.

"Oh, er.. great" I say. "An empty plastic bag". I was a bit underwhelmed.

"It's purple."

"So I see".

"It did have a nice gluten free cake in it for you but I ate it. It was delicious, you'd have really liked it, Icicle. You can keep the bag though".