I had imagined Friday night as the perfect homecoming: seeing my parents and friends and having the first Munich beer in three months (no offence).
So you can all guess that didn’t work out as planned. Finding out that my flight had been cancelled because of extreme snow closing the Munich airport (I know we normally tend to boast about Germany being amazing when it comes to coping with the snow) and the Lufthansa helpline unhelpfully hopeless, I left for Heathrow in a hurry (sorry about those dirty breakfast plates in the kitchen, flatmates) to find out if any other flights were heading towards Munich at all.
Then the first snowflakes started to fall on Gillingham just as I got on the train. A bad sign? Most definitely.