I was going to post...
I'm on my way...(it'll pay for the ferry)...
But as I limped to work in Reading down the M4 on Sunday night with a flat...and sit at work waiting, waiting, waiting for the tyres I've ordered to come in to the local tyreshop, and can't find the hole to plug so I can drive back to London (on a dangerrously shagged carcass), and can't face the prospect of sitting in a recovery vehicle listening to a madman for two or three hours, even though I'm spending 35 quid a day (including a 4am train to London on Monday), and really enjoying sharing space twice daily with coughing, sneezing and handkerchief less poor people with TB ...
I shan't.
I have discovered a new hairstyle though...

When the going gets weird...