Friday begins in a hotel room in west London trying to stuff a 'luxury dog donut' from The Mutz Nutz in Notting Hill into a Mulberry black nylon holdall. No dice. No matter how much I huff and I puff and try to stuff the bloody thing in, it won't fit.
I'm tempted to leave said donut with Michael, the very helpful hotel concierge, but after months of promising to buy Milou (Biff's half-sister) the luxury taupe coloured dog bed, I am determined to deliver this time - even if it means schlepping it back on Ryanair. (Milou has been covetously eyeing up Biff's donut, pictured above, ever since I bought it for him a year ago.) So I hot foot it to M&S on Ken High Street and buy yet another bargain basement suitcase, to add to the half dozen emergency suitcase purchases already languishing in the attic back in France.
Success! The donut fits! Unfortunately, nothing else does, so I leave my clothes, books, latest beauty press releases, magazines and Jo Malone bath oil in the hotel to be picked up next time.
I arrive back in France early evening. Biff pretends to ignore me - my punishment for leaving him for 48 hours, albeit it with his other 'family,' Frances and David - and there is no sign of Luis. Still, I am looking forward to driving to Tours tomorrow to visit Ikea (or Eek-'ere in French) with my friend Anita. And at least I got the donut back.