I went over to watch you pack your luggage. You warned me that I'd have a heart attack watching you because you only pack last minute (in fact, you packed right up to when the taxi arrived). I helped you fold shirts and water plants, while you flitted around packing excitedly (not frantically; there was a heady delirium in the way you packed which was contagious). It'll be two and a half weeks till we meet again, and this'll be the longest time we're separated since we've been together.

I said I succumbed to writing another icky sweet blog entry about you, and you laughed when I mentioned how the guys protested against it. I kept naming things you should pack to remind you (and yet we missed out something). Still, I was astonished that your check-in luggage weighed in over 23kg.

I accompanied you to the airport. It was the first of 5 times I'll be passing through the airport this month, and next week it'll be my turn to fly. On the way to the airport, you noticed my right eye had streaked red with infection, and emptied out your toiletry kit to hunt for eye drops (but you didn't find it). We bantered over where to go for dinner and I jokingly threatened to eat at Mac's. We settled on Popeyes later, and ended up with food stuck in our teeth.

I felt so secure in your presence that I didn't cry when you finally left for your flight. Instead, I wandered round searching for the taxi stand and it was a while before I realised I should go down to Arrival Hall.

Can't wait to see you again.
Be happy. Be safe.