The 'run and jump'...

I had kind of imagined my reunion with 'Mr Kiwi' as something like that scene from 'An Officer and a Gentleman' I would look gorgeous and he would effortlessly lift me up (where you belong) and carry me out of the airport as I grinned smugly to all the jealous people around me...

In reality, i emerged into arrivals after 32 hours of travelling, with skin that looked like it hadn't seen a Clinique moisturiser in years, puffy eyes topped off with lashings of black circles, hair like a hobo, a belly that had ballooned with 32 hours worth of trapped-wind and a distinct aroma of eau de B.O lingering around me.

I attempted the 'run and jump', he kind of staggered underneath my weight, made a loud groaning sound and then dropped me. Quite embarrassing if you think about it, really. And those looks of the people around me weren't of jealousy, oh no, they were of horror.

The Essex girl had landed....