I am sitting in bed at my sister’s new home in Georgetown at two o’clock in the morning, wide awake. (I say ‘almost’ home because I won’t actually move back into my house until January.) Yesterday was excellent & eventful.
The flight to Dublin was fine — the lady beside me hated take-offs and landings so I distracted her with utter babble & chit-chat (and as we were landing, with a truly wicked and rude story from one of my earlier river cruises) — distracting her panic enough that her husband stepped over and thanked me as we were disembarking.
The flight to Toronto was going very well — I had received a box of chocolates as a going away present (I don’t really like chocolate), so I took them on board the plane as a gift for the cabin crew, so that made for a nice start. Was served a lovely meal with nice wines, then I lowered the ‘bed’, put on an eye mask and slept for over two hours. As I said, all was going well. As I sat up from my nap and started to raise up the bed, I saw my glasses slide off the peedie wee tray, and slide down the side of the seat, into the inner mechanics of the bed/seat, in spite of my scrambling and muttering, ‘no, no, no, no’. After 15 minutes of the cabin crew digging around and telling me they didn’t think it was possible for anything to slide down that crack and I must be mistaken and the seat couldn’t be taken apart, I resigned myself to having to fork out for new glasses once I got home (I don’t need them for distance, just for reading and computer work, so this would be a costly inconvenience, not a life-altering crisis). But once we landed, I went at that chair with a vengance, as all of business class stood and looked on. And with the help of a wonderful flight attendant (whom I hugged ferociously even tho I hate hugs) we got them. Thank goodness.
But the fun wasn’t over yet. However, it is now 3:24 in the morning, and I should really try going back to sleep.