3 December 2017
The last two weeks have been travel free so I have been in the office and at my desk. Unfortunately when I returned I discovered illness had arrived on my floor.
I sit at the front, facing the masses and had an excellent view the suffering. Pale faces, streaming eyes, runny noses and an impressive variety of coughs and sneezes filled the room each day. Every desk had tissues and drugs fighting for space with files. One chap at the back looked so pale and sweaty I thought he might be in withdrawal.
To my left was one sniffler, one sneezer and one ‘battling through’, all of whom were at different stages of incubation. The floor was like one big well smeared petri dish sitting in a warm incubator.
On Wednesday morning myself and a student congratulated ourselves on our excellent health, however this was a mistake. By the afternoon I had developed a sore throat and tickly cough but did my best to ignore them
On Thursday morning I woke feeling grim. As I made my way to work though the arctic gale and heavy snow showers I kicked myself for not deciding to work from home.
By lunchtime I was seriously thinking about just going home. My symptoms had intensified and my productivity very low, but my generation were bought up to believe that losing a leg in the photocopier draw was a border line reason for leaving 5 minutes early.
The timing of my illness could not have been worse.
Some months ago my mother had told us she wanted to make a trip south. The purpose of the trip was to deliver presents and visit family and friends. This would mean a trip to Oxfordshire which is 500 miles from where we live, but as she couldn’t leave my father alone overnight it simply couldn’t be done. So there.
After checking the flight times and working it out I suggested we make a day trip. We could fly from Edinburgh to Birmingham first thing, I’d drive her about in a hire car then we could return last flight in the evening. What could be easier!
To my great surprise she was very keen and flights for December were booked that day. When Alice was asked if she wanted to come she was extreamly keen. Mainly because it meant a day off school. She was supposed to be off sick, but as she posted regular updates on social media throughout the day she inadvertently exposed her parents as liars.
Unusually for someone as anal as myself I had failed to think the whole thing through properly. A 2am start followed by a 22 hour day had seemed quite reasonable at the time, plus the chance of inclement weather or my catching a cold had not even crossed my mind.
Thursday night I went to bed at 7pm, I felt so ill I doubted I would last until 2am, but last until then it I did. And when I woke up I felt pretty good! Still unwell but not very. I went upstairs to rouse the offspring and to my surprise she was already up. Shame she is not as keen on a school day.
We carefully made our way to my mother’s house along frozen roads covered in snow. When we arrived she was all ready and waiting for her 3am taxi. The roads from there to the capital were empty and we arrived at Edinburgh airport around 5am. Switching off the engine prompted my mother to enter full whiffle mode.
She was taking six cut glass whisky glasses as a gift for her sister, but when she had weighed them at home the scales said they weighed 10kg (22lbs). This was clearly nonsense as they were not made of lead, but she insisted on giving us a glass or two each to spread around our bags ‘just in case’. This took about 20 minutes to sort out.
I had not been to Edinburgh airport for about three years and it had completely changed upstairs, but not for the better I must say. Security has been stepped up and much to my amusement my mother set off all the alarms. She had to remove her 43 coats and enter a circular glass cabinet thing that reminded me of the one Loki puts Thor in half way through Avengers Assemble.
Then she got patted down by a tall, thin, immaculately turned out security lady who was sporting a crisp, short, angular, blonde haircut. Clearly she was a ladies’ lady which will have caused my mother some unease.
Finally my mother was made to stand with her arms out while they went over every inch of her with a hand held metal detector. Lord knows what perceived threat to national security a diminutive, 6 stone, 74 year old grandmother could possibly pose, but no-one else got such a thorough going over.
After security we entered a zone that must have been re-designed by the top men in the mind control division of the Moonies. The path made a series of double S bends and snaked through the middle of the retail hell that is duty free.
There was fags, booze, perfume, watches and other unnecessary tat, each section staffed by retail Madams keen to whore you their shiny wares.
“Paco Rabanne sir?” asked one stunning young girl from behind four inches of makeup.
I stopped and from underneath my fluffy, worn, fur trappers hat with the ear flaps fastened on top asked “Be honest, do I look like a Paco Rabanne man?”
She briefly looked me up and down and replied “Well no, but you could always start today!”
I must give her credit for being so perky at 5.30am and if anyone wants some Paco Rabanne I now have four bottles.
Once past the painted harpies and more or less free from their forbidden fruit, we found ourselves in the promised land of departures which was really all food and drink. Every spare inch of floor had someone selling something and their prices were through the roof. I watched a guy easily identifiable as a salesman – sorry Business Development Manager – drink three pints of Stella between 6:00am and 6.20am while shouting into his phone and jabbing at his laptop. What a way to start your day!
Our 55 minute flight started with this announcement by the captain.
“Welcome aboard our flying machine!
On the way down First officer Dave will be practicing his flying and I will be working the wireless.
For the romantic on board there will be lovely sunrise on the left about half way there!”
I took time to explain to a panicking Alice that ‘practicing’ was just a joke. First Officer Dave should be fully qualified.
We arrived in Birmingham and picked up our hire car which turned out to be a Ford Fiesta STi. I asked if I could have a normal one and they just laughed. It had low profile tyres, too many exhausts and a bucket seat so low once I got in I doubted I would ever be able to get out.
We set off for Banbury at an unintentionally high speed. While I struggled to master the ludicrous power of the STi my mother again went into whiffle mode. She put presents, wrapping paper and cards on the dash, reunited the whisky glasses by stacking them on the middle consul and managed to wrap the gear stick in five meters of bubble wrap.
We arrived much earlier than anticipated and went straight to Morrisons supermarket. My mother met a pal who was so happy to see here she shrieked loudly and started to cry.
Alice and I went to the café for two full breakfasts, which much to Alice’s disgust were different from the ones we get up here. No tattie scone or square sausage. You get links and hash browns in England. Alice was not impressed and I had to get quite firm when I repeatedly asked her to stop saying
“Everyone sounds so ENGLISH!” at the top of her voice.
My patience got so thin I almost said “Yeah, you’re on my turf now princess, so shut it! aright?”
Next we went to see my mother’s sister for the first time since she had a massive stroke. She was much better than we had been led to believe and we ended up staying for two hours.
My cousin who had worked in the British Embassy in Pyongyang was also there. She entertained us with stories of team building away days planting rice in paddy fields freshly fertilized with human excrement.
Her husband whom is originally from Armenia arrived late as he had been at the local Waitrose. It was cheap chocolate day and he had been battling other shoppers to secure his six boxes. Another of my aunts also turned up despite being very elderly. She may be 83 but she didn’t like to miss a trick.
When we left their house we made our way to Banbury cemetery. My mother put a wreath on my grandparent’s headstone and met another of her pals. This reunion was somewhat more subdued which was just as well given the location.
The cemetery lies between a massive food factory and a large bakery, both of which I had worked at in the past. I was disappointed in Alice’s lack of interest when I pointed this out. She likes a graveyard and was too busy reading the headstones and re-distributing the flowers more fairly.
It was at this point I suddenly started to feel very unwell indeed. The wind was bitingly cold and whatever had been ensuring I felt OK had suddenly run out. I assessed my options and realised I really didn’t have any, so as my feeling bloody awful and the fact were in a cemetery didn’t sit well together I decided to press on and say nothing.
A late lunch followed, by which time it was 4:00pm. We decided to head for the airport and went to a garage to re-fill the extremely thirsty STi. On top of the pump was a card advertising Unicorn cuddly toys so I decided to get Alice one. Behind the till was a stunning young Asian girl with a smile that could have melted ice.
“Do you have any of the unicorn’s left? I was looking for a pink or purple one?”
“Wha?” she asked.
“The card on top of the pumps….” She looked out the window into the gathering gloom.
“Well if we ave any vey’ll be in isle 2, but really I don’t know nufink bout no unicorns”.
Proving beauty really can be no more than skin deep.
Once fully fuelled and in possession of an overpriced purple unicorn we set off for the airport. Usually it would be 30 minutes up the M40, 15 minutes along the M42 and Bobs your uncle. But not on a Friday afternoon just before Christmas.
Nothing in Scotland can compare to the insanity of the English motorway system, especially when it nears a major conurbation and it is a Friday afternoon before Christmas. Forget what the law says.
In reality the minimum speed is 70mph (112kph), in lanes 1 and 3. In lane 2 the maximum is 55mph (88kph), plus when in the middle lane you must be talking on your mobile phone.
You need to drive no less than six inches (15cm) from the car in front, or one of those smart cars will undertake on the hard shoulder and swoop into the gap. Be prepared for your lane to come to a dead stop for no reason, which will prompt those around you to dive left and right into the other lanes. They will be doing 10mph while the traffic coming up behind them will be doing 80mph. I had forgotten what it was like and for the first time that day appreciated the boy racer attributes of the STi.
Once at the airport we returned the STi. The chap from Avis only asked one question as he took the key:
“No accidents?” before giving it the vaguest of inspections.
We had lots of time to kill and spent it doing nothing. We were all knackered, I was beginning to feel seriously unwell plus I had no intention of spending more money.
I did relent briefly and buy Alice a smoothie, but is this really worth £4.45? No I don’t think it is!
Our plane left on time, arrived early and we were in the car ready to head home by 10pm.
Alice was asleep before we left the car park and the journey was a little easier than I had imagined. Feeling like death warmed up helped to keep me awake as did my mother’s constant chatter. She had got her second wind and didn’t want to let it pass without it being fully exploited. I only had to bite one of my fingers really hard three times to prevent the onset of sleep. We dropped my mother off on the way and arrived home just before midnight.
On the Saturday I woke up and was comforted by the memory of a successful day out. However, free of the need to be the responsible adult as I had been the day before, I felt absolutely and completely rotten.
Murrays Musings 