And now for something completely different...

Turns out, being a journalist is sometimes like having access to a time machine

This week has been chaos. Rich is back in the UK, I’m flying solo with Arthur, and as it turns out, the carefully-crafted work/school/extracurricular routine only works with four adult hands keeping the balls in the air. I have two. There are balls rolling about everywhere.

To add insult to injury, I’m remortgaging in the UK, which is as much joy you wou…