He signed it.
He signed it!!!
Next time I was in the flat, there it was, on the table, signed. He did it in his usual, no-bullshit style. A contract had to be signed, however painful the consequences. And so he did. Without a word he signed it. And there it was on the table.
Could I have been any happier? No. This is as good as it gets. And that is pretty good.
Now for a weekend of blissful doing-nothing-but sauna, jacuzzi, sauna, snow, walking, friends, laughter, food, oh, food and jacuzzi, sauna...
And here is hoping.
I am looking forward to Monday. When the games begin. We fly back to London at a really crazily early hour. Perhaps the quitting of the smoking should start the next day. Or perhaps it should just start. No matter the date, or the time, it will just be really hard. Really shxt. Might as well start.
No day better than today. So here goes.
But for now, let's have some real fun.
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