When we go away, our ancient Volvo estate (Helga) is stuffed to the gunwales with camping equipment, so that there's barely enough room for our hair and it takes a masterpiece (actually usually a mistresspiece) of design and organisation to fit everything in.
We've always known our holidaying lives would be transformed by one of those sleek aero-dynamic roof box thingys.
But they're SO expensive.
And neither of us earn money over the summer, so we'd decided - yet a again - that it's out of the question.
I'd emailed the boss man at the consultancy I do freelance critiques for to say I wouldn't be available for further edits until September.
The email must have crossed in the post/ether.
Because a couple of days ago a 400 page MS thudded through the letter box.
The Bad News
I have to get this completed before we go away.
I can't/won't take it with me.
And I don't want to go away knowing I'd have to come straight back to it.
And it's b-i-g ...
I foresee some very late nights over the next few days.
The Good News
We bought the roof box with the extra £££!
You know the Bob Marley song that includes the line:
We'll be together with a roof right over our heads?
My dear friend, Ch, once admitted to me she'd always thought the lyric was:
With a roof rack over our heads ...
Guess what the theme tune for this summer's hols is going to be ...