To London…I don’t make this trip as often as I used to, it’s a bit of is excursion these days. Anyway, I’m on the train, ruminating on the fun I face each time I do this trip. It’s a flippin’ miracle I make it out of the door to be honest. Please note, I am not moaning, more meandering… A typical morning…
First off, I have to actually get up…easier said than done. Normally it’s at some godforsaken hour (5.30am this morning) and its cold outside…and my feet are all cramped up, my calves ‘mooing’ . I stretch and wait for the cramp to go. Then I totter into the bathroom and wrestle with my meds. Every time I swear I will put them out the night before but no, I never do and so I end up fighting particularly tricky foil blister packs while trying not to disturb Other Half. They are soooooo noisy! The crinkles!
That job done, I have to brush my teeth without setting the plumbing off (one day, when you’re VERY bored I’ll tell you about my creaking house), get dressed without falling over in the dark (there have been some ahem, interesting clothes choices in the past) creep through the house to collect the various electronic devices, charging gently throughout the night and then dash downstairs to deactivate the alarm before it wakes the entire Stitchy household. Which it quite often does. Oops.
Then it’s the locks. The blardy locks. Our doors are old and the weather damp. The doors stick. The locks jam. Trying to even get the key in the keyhole can be a challenge at times. This morning I was down on my hands and knees coaxing a recalcitrant bolt back to ‘open’. It was at this point that I realised one of the reasons I’m so knackered when I travel is the obstacle course that is getting out of the house.
And then, just as you breathe a sigh of relief and shove the door open (I have bruises on my shoulder, I kid you not) you fall at the last hurdle…the abandoned shoe patch. Damn.