Travel needs to be managed with a degree of sophistication, second only to managing a family vacation for 15. Can you imagine how many clothes and provisions we needed.!!!!

I don’t know but I somehow I seem to attract the ‘send her early’ slots. This mornings trip began with a 3.30 am awakening. I told my eyes they could stay shut a little longer, but they didn’t respond in a positive manner.
The alarm was set for  4.15. but I decided to give in and get up and check my emails. The joy of fast internet far outweighs the need for sleep.

Everything is laid out in order, bags, computers etc. The clothes were carefully  prepared the day before and it felt so good to have  neatly laundered shirt and trousers hanging in the wardrobe. I love it when someone else does my laundry. The delightful name, “Lavenderia’ its called in Mexico.

Its a throwback of Traveling with 15 in the family. It  was always a laundry quandary…. Fussy Mother that I am… the washing was always a priority… We had an interesting method though. Of course with 15 to transport we had our own bus. Two big plastic bins were wedged between several seats. Water in both and the compulsory lids to prevent flooding on the bus floor. One contained the washing and laundry powder and the other the rinse water. The movement of the bus washed the clothes thoroughly and in turn the rinse water worked just as effectively.I have been known to begin wringing out the washing and place it in the rinse bin when we stopped for lunch or even a gas stop. You can imagine the faces of the passers by.

This morning though, I checked the luggage, locked and double checked and added to covers for added security and protection. I have covers made of lycra with 1950’s radios for decoration., thats almost as much of a talking point as the washing in the car park.!

I was in Mexico and its not without a degree of nervousness that I get in a car with a strange man whom I need to trust to take me to the Airport along deserted roads and in the dark to boot.

I was assured he was the hotel driver not a local taxi and my fears were dismissed as I checked the “aeropuerto” sign all the way along the freeway. He politely asked if I would like to listen to music and generously turned it to an English station.  He apologized for his lack of english and drove very carefully. I relaxed and even began quilting the Bayeux in my mind.

Guadalajara Airport is larger than ours at home and everything went like clockwork. So here I sit with all the businessmen in first class section of the plane, writing my blog and wishing the aging hostess would stop chewing her gum with such grim determination…. at least keep the lips closed please.