We get back to our hotel room on Thursday evening and I rest my weary touristed-out bones in a nice hot bath. The boyfriend takes a shower as I switch on the TV, and instead of CNN find I'm given a thrilling menu of choices other than telly. Opting for internet access over adult movies, I tell my newly clean boyf that 6 Euros for an hour's worth of browsing is good value for money and go straight for my inbox.
And there's the email from Susan Hill: "YOU HAVE WON". I nearly fall off of the hotel bed. I'm wearing just a big white towel and squeaking like an idiot. I must look like some kind of albino bat. The boyf scoots to the end of the bed to see what's got me in a flap, and gives me a big hug. "I think you deserve a Campari," Susan writes. "Or three," I write back, and ring my Mum. (I get home to discover that ten minute call cost 18 quid, but it was worth it). Mum immediately starts making mental lists of all the people she's gonna tell. At the end of the call I tell her "I bet when I said I had news, you thought I was going to say I was pregnant." "I would have been just as proud," she tells me. "Though it doesn't take as much skill." (She's obviously never attempted the 'broken ladder' position).
The rest of the holiday is a bit of a daze. It's strange that this big thing has happened, and so far only my Mum and my boyf know about it, but I don't want to tell people over the phone. That would just spoil the fun :-)