London - here we come!

So, this is me at Melbourne International Airport on Saturday night. It was way past my bedtime and I was allowed to crawl around on the shiny floor for ages. People thought I was cute. My outfit got very dirty from all the crawling. I think Mum and Dad were trying to tire me out for some reason. It didn't work.

We then got on a plane (not that I understand what that is). We were on it FOREVER! I got really bored and grumpy. I gave Mum and Dad false hope by sleeping for the first 2 hours, but then I woke up . I just wanted to wriggle around and I didn't like being in the basinet thing. It was too small for me, so I just didn't sleep.  Mum seemed annoyed as she wanted to watch the TV thing (and drink booze).

We got off the plane for a couple of hours in Dubai. I made some new friends - all I do is wave and smile and people can't resist - before boarding an Airbus, the biggest plane there is, where I almost lost some new friends.

Mum and Dad drugged me with Phenergen, but after a short nap I mounted my counterattack: operation Phenergen Smenergen. 2 mL - hah! 3 mL - I'm still here! 3.5 mL - time to give it away you fools! Mum asked what was wrong with me; Dad just went quiet. Statistics for both flights Mum: 2 episodes of The IT Crowd, the Justin Beiber movie (David *** / Margaret ***** / Mum ***** ("It was really good. He's actually very talented")), Little Fockers ("Awful"); Dad: 2 episodes of the IT Crowd; 1 episode of My Name Is Earl; 2 games of Tetris (Dad recorded a pb); Lewis: 6 hours sleep, 18 hours of fun times. LEWIS WINS!

But in the week before departing, Mum caught a cold, which she passed on to me just before we left. On the plane I became the snottiest baby in the whole world. By the time we boarded the train at Heathrow, my right eye was swollen and red and my face and hair were caked with snot. People were concerned - I thought Mum and Dad were going to get the call from the DHS. I'm still very sick, but hope to recover within a few days.   I look pretty bad, don't I?

Anyway, after we caught the train, we hailed a black cab. It was cool, except Dad was expecting 'the knowledge' and the driver didn't know Tetcott St from his own backside. But he was lovely and managed to get us to our apartment anyway. So after 30 hours on the road (and air), we finally made it. The apartment is great. It has a kitchen with a glass ceiling, and some cool stairs for me to climb up to the courtyard garden. Mum keeps telling me 'No', I smile and do it anyway. Here is me and Mum in the kitchen:

After we arrived at the apartment Mum's cousin Lucie came over to visit. She lives in London. It was great to see her again - I really like hanging out with her and she spoiled us all with gifts and fine food. We then went for a walk to Lucie's house. I had a bit of a sleep in the pram, but at Lucie's place I totally lost it. Mum and Dad had just pushed me too far. I was soooo tired and feeling so sick I just couldn't stop crying. Mum got me to sleep eventually, and then a bit later we went back to the apartment.  We were all so delirious that we passed out about 9pm. (Mum fell asleep on the floor next to my cot while she was trying to get me to sleep!)

Even though I should have been really tired, for some reason I decided it was time to get up at 4am. I was raring to go, but Mum and Dad weren't impressed. So I showed them my new trick: clapping! Back in the good books immediately - they're so easily distracted. Mastered the slap, the high five and now the two-hander. Mum and I got up and played for a while, Dad was at his supportive best ... Asleep.