back to earth, hopefully not with a thump

Getting real here. Tomorrow I have to go get on a plane in Newark, which means I have to lug my stuff from Woodstock to NYC, and from NYC to Newark, and then persuade the people at the check-in desk to let me check my bags in. What this means is that I have to do the packing, and I have to do it right.

Gone are the days, you know - as long as it fits in a bag it's all right - no, even hair products and body oil, all the most impractical things you can think of, now have to go in the hold, even though it's not pressurised, which means they're likely to burst open in transit, which means that today I need (in this town which lacks a supermarket) to get loads of ziplock bags. And last week at Heathrow they were trying to tell me my carry-on bag had to weigh less than six kilos! The bag itself weights four kilos. I was pretty much going to have to carry on an empty bag and check my laptop in, which I refused pointblank to do. But, because of the security, you do have to be able to get your laptop out of the bag easily - and then back in again - you know, what do they think we're like? We can't all be nomads.

Plus, there are the new sheets. They're pretty big even once you get them out of the packaging - and one of them has already been washed from where a muddy cat went and slept on it, but did it shrink? No. And the obligatory American Sweets. And just the couple of books and a Tony Hancock DVD nobody can play over here, wrong region apparently. And then there are the three framed pictures which an indefatigable aunt and uncle are even now trying to pack up in such a way that I can check them in - rather than, say, sending them to myself at vast expense and then having to pay import duty on them, can you imagine - which of course also means "in such a way that I can lug them through Port Authority." God I hate that place. And I still haven't worked out a good system for managing two suitcases, the carry-on bag and the coffee.

Then there's the kids, and then there's the cousins, and then there's Baby Bro and his wife. And one evening! Well, everyone's had a cut of me, I guess. And there are phone calls to make tonight.

I have to say, it will be lovely to be home. There are people to see there too, including of course the Baroquelings... I feel as if I've been gone a month.

Meanwhile there's the four calling birds poem, the manuscript and attendant other issues like for example permissions for quoted material, which I have not as yet addressed at all - and now it's the run-up to Christmas - and, ahem, Hecht. Oh and three books waiting for me at home to be reviewed. Oh, and work! Yes. Not only that but I have a toothache. I might go take a Nurofen.