Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Not dead... just wounded...

Apologies for not blogging yesterday, which I am sure must have sent shockwaves across blogland. You can now call off the dogs, I am back! There were a couple of reasons for my silence yesterday, first I had to get up super early to get a flight to north of the border and also, as it turned, out my internet connection failed on Monday night and I couldn’t summon up the energy at some unearthly hour yesterday morning to find out if it had come back again.

I felt pretty rough most of the day yesterday. I hadn’t slept all that well on Monday night and then had to get up really early anyway and just felt sluggish throughout the day and I always find that flying never helps with making me feel on top form. Anyway, I had a bit of a headache by the time I went to check in for my flight. I had a flexible ticket so the system offered me the chance to change fights as there was an earlier one, so I did so but then just happened to mention this to a member of staff who then told me the earlier flight was actually delayed and would be departing after my original flight. So she very kindly switched me back to my original flight. So I killed some time in the business lounge and desperately wanted to just shut my eyes for a bit but was with two people that I knew so couldn’t. I then boarded the flight and settled down in my seat and my mind began to prepare for a bit of relaxation time. Whilst we were waiting to take off one of the flight crew was moving the stuff about in the overhead locker directly above my head and a walking stick somewhat unexpectedly fell out and cracked me really hard on the head. She was very apologetic, but let me tell you that it didn’t have hurt and was also not great for my headache. It’s funny because on Monday even though I knew I was going to Scotland and back in a day I felt as though I was going to be away for much longer. Perhaps it was a premonition that I might be hospitalised.

On Monday, I read this somewhat sad tale on the BBC. A dog got sucked up by a street sweeper in New York. The owner turned round to find that all he had in his hand was a lead and no dog attached to the end of it. No sniggering at the back there…

I shall end with a song that seems very apt at the moment. It’s “Telling Stories” by Tracy Chapman.

2 comments:

TOM FOOLERY said...

Thank God Random, I thought you were dead and that would just not do, no indeed. TFX

Random Reflections said...

TF - thanks. If I did die, I'll try and make sure that somebody sends up a smoke signal to let you know. Actually don't they normally do that when a pope dies? I'm not very pope-like so don't get the two of us confused. I'll try not to die in the near future though anyway...