Last night I dreamt I was the CIPA President, and wherever I went, Ghanaian servants with shimmering pecs would twirl parasols over my head.
And then I woke up. It turns out that only the first part of the dream was true. There are no Ghanaian servants to be seen and it is time to hoover the flat and wash the bedding and empty the bins.
Then I am off to Munich for a day or two. I am so excited by my first trip on the Heathrow Express® and my first visit to Terminal 5 that I leave my passport and boarding card at Security. This is not a good start.
In Munich, I meet with the VeePee and the EyePeePee and Mr Davies and Mr Roberts, and we all catch the S-Bahn to our hotel. Mr Davies is in charge of buying the tickets, but luckily we don’t get found out.
In the evening we meet up with some epi folk. They take us for a traditional Bavarian meal. Bavarian food is like normal food but on steroids. Whole animals have been sacrificed for the side orders alone. I am served a dumpling that must have been cooked in a cauldron.
During the meal, Mr Davies practises his German, which he learnt from watching It’s A Knockout. “Links, links, gerade aus, links, rechts!” he shouts. As a result, it takes me twenty minutes to find the ladies’ loo. During this twenty minutes, another half a pig arrives by way of an amuse-bouche, which in German translates as Ein Mundlachenmachenvorspeiseereignis and is, therefore, a bit of a mouthful in all senses of the word.