Always Say Hello to the Fairies

You see, it serves me right. On my last visit to the Isle of Man, I know I said hello to the little people as I crossed Fairy Bridge, but I am also 100% sure I didn't say goodbye to them when I left. It was the Parish Walk at the time, and we were crawling in traffic. Not giving a greeting to the fairies is said to bring back luck...

...and June 26th 2009 the fairies hit back. Firstly, I had to walk to work through a monsoon. Not just a downpour, or a shower - this was a rainstorm of biblical proportions. It was still raging when I trudged home two hours later.

So I'm back at the flat, doing a passable impression of a drowned rat, and packing for my fantastic weekend in Manchester. Loads of things planned, having Tara on 'my turf' had been the highlight of my social calendar for weeks. Everything set, ready to head off to the bus that will take me to the first of 5 trains...

...and the fairies struck again. Tara sent a text, and after a phone call back, it was all off. Her husband's boss had called hm away to the UK (from Ireland) leaving no one to look after the kids if Tara left too. To say my heart sank is a huge under-estimation. But I had ninety pound train tickets to use, and perhaps I could come up with something else to do in the North-West. At least I was away from the office. I packed everything, even remembering my phone charger, ipod charger, and my portable DVD player for the train with several discs to choose from.

Bus ride went ok, first train to Waterloo was busy but it got me there. Tube ride north to Euston went without a hitch, even the third train to Piccadilly wasn't delayed or too over crowded....

...but the fairies had struck again. What I've failed to mention is that in my haste to catch the bus, I had forgotton to pack a couple of things. Firstly, I hadn't packed any reading material. No book, magazine - not even a pamphlet. No worries, Plan B, I can listen to music or watch a DVD. No I can't. I've forgotton my ipod, and with it, the headphones I'd need for the DVD player. For the first time in exisitance I remember the ipod charger, but go and leave the ipod behind. 5 train jounies with nothing to do but stare blankly out of the window, contemplating fate and nasty fairies.

All whimsy aside, I am truly devestated. I'm not sure it's quite hit home to me yet what all this means. In most circumstances I'd say I need to 'kick the cat', but the face he gave me when I walked through the door sort of implies he's not coming anywhere in kicking distance anyway. There is no one to blame (except the boss who called Tara's husband away, but he's just a faceless pen-pusher). This is just one of life's bitter ironies I suppose.

Well, I do actually blame myself though for turning small treats into monumental occasions. I think it stems from when I used to work two full-time jobs. Back then, a half day off became a holiday. A full day off was treated like I had won the pools. Small surprises were scaled upwards by a factor of twenty or more. I still do it now. My normal existance is so lonely, pointless and meaningless, when something comes along that sounds exciting it suddenly becomes the centre of the universe. I try to hide it (not very successfully, I know) but inside my body is leaping around like a Mexican jumping bean. I had that feeling when I thought I was going to see Tara.

Lets take stock. I'm in Manchester. I have three full days, (and most of Tuesday) to kill. Monday I'll try for a horse-race meeting (always quieter on a weekday). Tuesday I'm hoping to take my second cousin for a pub lunch. It's been planned already, except I think I said Monday to her, so I'll wait to see if she can switch. Weekend, I'm not so sure. A day in the Trafford Centre cinema is a possibility, but with it being the weekend it could get busy....

...I'll keep you all posted.

(p.s. although right now, all I feel like doing is polishing off the case of MGD in the garage and going to bed)