The biggest problem with going out with someone from the opposite coast is that spontaneity just doesn't happen. Or rather, it's very difficult to surprise. You have to cover up a five hour drive, then run the risk of failing to meet up. (And face the consequent five hour drive home.)
Thankfully today I knew where Emma would be. And I just about got away with not quite lying last night about being in Woodbridge rather than Luton.
But the upshot is: she'd not twigged and seemed happy to stumble into me. (And I in turn was delighted - not just because it saved me from driving back home after a failed rendezvous.)
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