Sorry for the radio silence. I’ve just been doing other things. As you know, there was the wedding and the travelling involved and two weeks to spend with Daughter Number Two. But all good things must come to an end as the saying goes and my girl is gone. I am desolate and it hurts so badly. My special friend who gives me so much love and comfort is off having his biopsy today. It’s not just that selfishly miss him, although of course I do – who else lets me cry into their black velvet coat without complaint? – but I am worried about him. You can find Frank’s GoFundMe page here. To those of you who have already donated, again, thank you.
As you know, I love flying. What I enjoy less is missing planes. I seem to be developing a knack for it though. On the journey to take Daughter Number Two home both planes we caught had been delayed, which was a bit of a novelty, but it didn’t really upset anything so I wasn’t all that bothered. I dropped Daughter Number Two off to Baby Daddy and all I really wanted was to fly home. As fast as I possibly could. My lovely kindred spirited friend was driving me to the train station to catch the train to get the plane. By this time I had already been on two aeroplanes and been in three states and said goodbye to my little girl all in sixteen hours. It had been a big day. As we neared the train station I looked up the train timetable on my phone and realised the next train would not get me there in time.
At which point my world started slipping out of time and as I spoke to my friend it felt as if I was listening to my own voice coming from far, far away. “I’m going to miss my plane”. I rang the airline. The lady on the phone said that as my ticket was non refundable and non-transferable there was nothing she could do for me; I would just have to buy a new ticket. Oh yes, with what exactly? But it wasn’t her problem and she was right about my ticket conditions so I thanked her and quietly continued my nervous breakdown. “I’ll going to miss my plane”. (I won’t be going home to The Love of My Life. I won’t be there for Frankie on Monday. I can’t afford a brand new ticket. I am stuck on the wrong side of the country.) My dear and long suffering friend said he thought, after consulting with his phones map thing, that there might be the tiniest, teeniest, sliver of a shadow of a possibility that we could make it. And he drove me the further couple of hours north to the airport. As the car pulled up he hugged me and told me to run and I opened the door and stood up…… and realised I could barely stand. My friend left to drive the three hours back to his home.
I moved as fast as I could and got to the gate before the plane had taken off. But after they had shut the doors. Just in time to see it take off without me. Fuck. I turned around to the QANTAS desk. I must have looked as pitiful as I felt because the lady behind the counter said she would put me on a flight in the morning, at no charge. Thank you to the QANTAS desk angel. However, I was still stuck on the wrong side of the country for the night, in my forth (geographical) state of the day and I still had to call The Love of My Life and tell him what a big idiot I was and that I wouldn’t be home that night. Fun times, fun times!
I’d been hoping to grab a coffee with an online friend in that city if I had time but as the two earlier planes had been delayed once I’d dropped off Daughter Number Two there wasn’t really the time. Why is my life so crammed full of irony? Two out of three planes I had seats on that day were delayed. The two I was on time for. The other one, the last one, the one I would have welcomed being ten minutes late, was bang on time. Anyway, during the Great Airport Race of 2014 and right in the middle of my deconstruction my friend had messaged me to ask if I was going to be able to meet up so I’d messaged back that I was sorry, I didn’t think so, and that I was kind of distracted by the fact that I WAS GOING TO MISS MY PLANE but I’d get back to her as soon as I could. She said “Just come here”. She said a bunch of other very cool things too. Another Angel, almost literally as it happens. This friend is the same one who sent me the cool jumper from her eBay shop and she also made the very first donation to Frankie. A good people kind of a person.
Once I’d missed the plane my on-line friend drove to the airport and collected me. She drove me back to her gorgeous new home and introduced me to her very handsome cat. She showed me to the spare bedroom with and put towels in her bathroom for me. She ordered pizza and we had a chat and then went to bed. In the morning, Sunday morning, she got up at 6.30am to drive me back to the airport. I sent her a thank you text as I boarded my plane and when I finally, FINALLY, landed on my side of the country I found her reply, “Don’t go telling people that I’m nice or anything”. When I read that I thought EXCELLENT!! Because nice is an adjective I hardly ever use! There are so many better words!
Safe onward travel everybody x