What a day.
1) The shower chooses to seize up. Great start !
2) Am subjected to the third degree at the new cattery - ( and was just beginning to think I'd passed with flying colours on chosen Mastermind specialist subject - Dora, my cat ) even managed not saying ' Hurry it up, I've got a plane to catch' until the question about cremation or freezer ? Well I lost it. Had to borrow handfuls of paper towels meant for cats' bottoms to mop up the meltdown. Felt so stupid - reduced to full blown sobbing. I wouldn't mind but she's only there for one week. Was that level of detail needed ?
Cat lady tried her best to console me but she wasn't that adept. Said, " 3 months ? I couldn't ever think of leaving mine for that long." 'Parental' guilt on a monumental scale kicks in and I blub all the way home, need my own personal windscreen wipers and end up albino - eyed.
3) Realise I can't actually carry my luggage, that the big suitcase ( containing the medium sized decent case ) has dodgy wheels and has to be mainly dragged. Linda (who has very kindly driven me to the station ) lugs the big case because I foolishly bought coffee and now this is more like being on a game show, trying to juggle it all. Board the train, wondering how I am going to get off at King's Cross, never mind get all the way to Bangkok.
4) At airport security both my bags are pulled out. Liquids show up on the X Ray. Eeek - now realise I have no idea what is actually in some of the Christmas present packages and the entrails of my perfectly packed suitcase are sprawled for all the world to see. Beautifully wrapped presents are torn open. Should have guessed about perfume being in that box so beautifully and uniformly wrapped. Amazingly I get it back. Seemed like a good idea at the time to put the new set of underwear in carry on ( in case your luggage gets lost tip ) and now the world knows I've got a navy bra and matching pants.
But the worst thing about getting the Maid of Marschapel (Yes really) to help me pack my cases with military precision when I was in Louth was that all the stuff just wouldn't go back in. In front of the holidaying hordes, I had to decant the excess into separate carriers and so now instead of traveller chic, I now am bag lady. The sophisticated look not enhanced by cross terrain trainers ( yes I did succumb ) on my feet as they just would not play the last minute game of trying to squeeze things into little caverns and gullies in my case. Looking down, I feel as though I have morphed into someone else.
5) Then finally I board. No turning left so full of longing and regret now.
I knew it was a mistake. What signifies the difference ?
Well in Premium Economy you do get a welcome refresher of sorts - a bottle of water hidden on your seat that you promptly sit on. And a scratchy blanket. And about 2 inches more leg room. But no cloth napkins, no real glasses, no table cloth.
Utility is the theme here.
As I'm eating the plasticky airline meal, I dislodge a crown. Perhaps a metaphor for what lies ahead !
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