:: Sick of 2008 already?
Lottie and I spent New Year's at the family home of her horsey friends, within crawling distance of our own front door. Handy really, because we brought 3 bottles of Chenet white wines to polish off between us. It was a lovely evening, but the part I'll remember longest is smoking a 'herbal cigarette' later and spending the wee hours throwing up, then January 1st and 2nd recovering. I patted myself on the back a few times for a good start to 2008, for sure. Two new good intentions: limit alcohol and substance abuse.
I had high hopes for the New Year though, starting with a quick trip to the Netherlands. My renewed passport had just come in, so before sending it off to the DVLA to apply for a driving license (another good intention) I thought I had best use it to see my family again. It was early March last year since I last went, so it was about time. I was to leave on Friday the 4th, 6.40 am in the morning, leaving from home with a taxi at 4.30. I usually get up around 5 for work anyway, so I was sure I'd manage it. I went to bed, knackered (but fully packed and prepared) at 10. Unfortunately though, I got up again less than 2 hours later with my muscles aching all over, to go the toilet.. I don't need to go into details here; it's enough to tell you I felt sure I wasn't well. Hoping that I might have ate something wrong, I tried to go back to sleep, tried purging myself some more (diplomatically put, isn't it?), and looked out for signs of getting better - but two hours before the taxi was due I called the trip off.
A few hours later, as I rested my forehead on the toilet seat and thought that last night's dinner didn't taste half bad, I realised I would have been airborne over the North Sea, if it hadn't been for this tummy bug. My absence from the plane probably delighted the passengers in front of my empty seat, arriving at Amsterdam smelling of their cheap deodorants rather than peppered steak, sprouts, mayonnaise and a bit of bile. My mother though, who I managed to call in the morning, was quite disappointed. She had cleared a room and made a bed for me, prepared to hide a key outside for me to use, and stocked bread and nice beer and all, but it wasn't to be. The foremost reason I wanted to visit, was because my eldest sister Elvira was over from Greece. She hadn't been over since 2004 I think, and this time she brought her husband and their 2 sons as well. Her eldest, I hadn't seen in 5 years. Considering he's only 11 now, I had been hugely looking forward to seeing them all again. I had been happy when my passport had come in just in time over Christmas for me to book a flight. Oh well, such is life. And oddly enough, I'm not heartbroken about it - it seems I've got a great big screen of unwavering positivism between the world and myself. It must be a coping mechanism left over from last year's funerals and other setbacks, but if it works, don't knock it. Lottie and I have no excuses not to visit my sister in Greece later this year, that's for sure. And that's a definite silver lining to the toilet bowl crying out for bleach.
I had high hopes for the New Year though, starting with a quick trip to the Netherlands. My renewed passport had just come in, so before sending it off to the DVLA to apply for a driving license (another good intention) I thought I had best use it to see my family again. It was early March last year since I last went, so it was about time. I was to leave on Friday the 4th, 6.40 am in the morning, leaving from home with a taxi at 4.30. I usually get up around 5 for work anyway, so I was sure I'd manage it. I went to bed, knackered (but fully packed and prepared) at 10. Unfortunately though, I got up again less than 2 hours later with my muscles aching all over, to go the toilet.. I don't need to go into details here; it's enough to tell you I felt sure I wasn't well. Hoping that I might have ate something wrong, I tried to go back to sleep, tried purging myself some more (diplomatically put, isn't it?), and looked out for signs of getting better - but two hours before the taxi was due I called the trip off.
A few hours later, as I rested my forehead on the toilet seat and thought that last night's dinner didn't taste half bad, I realised I would have been airborne over the North Sea, if it hadn't been for this tummy bug. My absence from the plane probably delighted the passengers in front of my empty seat, arriving at Amsterdam smelling of their cheap deodorants rather than peppered steak, sprouts, mayonnaise and a bit of bile. My mother though, who I managed to call in the morning, was quite disappointed. She had cleared a room and made a bed for me, prepared to hide a key outside for me to use, and stocked bread and nice beer and all, but it wasn't to be. The foremost reason I wanted to visit, was because my eldest sister Elvira was over from Greece. She hadn't been over since 2004 I think, and this time she brought her husband and their 2 sons as well. Her eldest, I hadn't seen in 5 years. Considering he's only 11 now, I had been hugely looking forward to seeing them all again. I had been happy when my passport had come in just in time over Christmas for me to book a flight. Oh well, such is life. And oddly enough, I'm not heartbroken about it - it seems I've got a great big screen of unwavering positivism between the world and myself. It must be a coping mechanism left over from last year's funerals and other setbacks, but if it works, don't knock it. Lottie and I have no excuses not to visit my sister in Greece later this year, that's for sure. And that's a definite silver lining to the toilet bowl crying out for bleach.