Now the dust of last weekend has finally settled - unlike my stomach and connected storage areas - my dad has arrived to knock some sense into me.
But he hasn't got long.
Because Wee John arrives tomorrow night.
Jamie and Charlotte can't believe their luck.
And I can't believe I'm going to have to drink again.
In fact, I'm writing this with a full glass of wine sitting beside me.
I trust I have your sympathy.
