Technically, though, it wasn’t lost luggage but abandoned luggage. If we’d waited for our luggage (that is: if we’d waited for BMI’s incompetent luggage handlers to get around to getting the luggage off of our already very-delayed plane) we would have missed our flight.

Meanwhile, I would say it’s good to be home but lord it’s cold here!

Sprinting across Heathrow isn’t very good for the legs. There’s a lot of stone floor in that airport. Especially when it’s underneath a thinly-soled pair of ballet flats.

Ah, the lost luggage. It wouldn’t be a proper holiday without it.