M25 pit stop

Leo and I made it back to Uganda on a flight that had the little guy charming the hearts of everyone.  I was quietly nervous thinking it could be the day flight to end all day flights, especially as we tick tocked towards 8.5 hrs of Leo and all 10.9kg of him squashed onto my lap.  But it was plain sailing and he didn't put a cheeky foot wrong, not even when we found ourselves thrust into the middle row on an aisle seat miles back from the bulk head (which I'd specifically confirmed over the phone - damn you BA and your lying ways).  

It's now six days since we landed and Chris and I remain in awe of our first class passenger - he was literally born to travel which can't be said for his mother.  Early last Saturday morning as we hurtled towards Heathrow around the M25 I needed to go the loo so badly I nearly fainted.  I finally managed to persuade Pod (my stepfather) to pull off at the next junction which he was initially against (with much huffing and puffing) as with only 20 miles left couldn't I just wait?  NO I COULD NOT. 

I think what finally changed his mind was my face turning red from lack of oxygen so he yanked the steering wheel and we found a road leading into a dark and dingy lane.  I clambered from the car, wet wipes in hand, and darted to the nearest bush.  This particular spot was a fly tip and the area littered to the beaming full moon and back with rubbish.  It was so awful I mentally held everything in and instead weed like a racehorse.....right next to a plastic kettle.….

When it comes to needing a pit stop, quite literally, I'm your girl.