The Princess Of Wales

All rise for her royal highness Madame Granny Wrangler of Wales.

(Cue Baroque music, crazed screaming fans, Hello! Magazine photographers wetting themselves in excitement and exhilaration, and the odd distant gunshot fired off by bodyguards at wayward bratty children who happen to breach the perimeter)

Yours truly is officially off to Cymru today on an all new wrangling extravaganza! Details are sketchy but when i alight from my fast train this afternoon, i am due to be collected by taxi (complete with name card touting dude) and chauffeured a very long way to the manor house where i shall kick off my shoes and collapse into a heap of duck-down filled bliss atop my large bed next to my very own en suite bathroom, whilst my contented sighs echo down the 19th century stone corridors and through the countless other bedrooms.

I don't particularly want to speculate and get all shot away in case it doesn't end up being as wonderful as it sounds, but some of the things Google has been whispering in my ear are pretty promising. I'll need a day or two to suss out the area and find myself an internet connection so if things are a little quiet, i've either been eaten by a rabid mountain goat at the foot of the black mountains or i'm just sodding miles away from civilization. Could have just stayed in Africa in that case!!

Even if it isn't all it's cracked up to be, as long as the only bloody dragon in the picture is the one on the flag, i'll be happy. And so on and so on and so forth.