When we're on the train and on our way, Megan texts Steve to see how the jab and microchip went. Good and bad news. The good news is that the presence of lots of treats meant he didn't feel a thing. The bad news is that his first jab with the breeder hadn't covered the main diseases, only a couple, so he has to have another one in 2 weeks, and then wait another week on top of that until he can go out for walks. Great.
We enjoy our London break immensely.
Megan buys herself a Kindle, we visit the Harry Potter Experience, we have a Travelodge experience, we spend hours in Paperchase (it had 3 floors!!), and we only have a couple of stressy moments. One was when we finally found the right bus stop for the right bus, with the bus approaching, I see a sign that says 'Buy your ticket before boarding the bus'. I spy the machine and frantically scrabble around looking for change (I even raid Megan's purse), only to find the machine has jammed midway taking my money - pressing cancel and eject a million times at high speed only results in half of the money coming back out. The bus drives off. I drag Megan into the nearest shop to buy the cheapest and most useful thing (water) to get change, then rush back. I stupidly think that my brief disappearance would have magically fixed the ticket machine, so I put in a £2 coin and what a surprise, that gets jammed too. Another bus arrives, and I ask the driver if I can pay cash on the bus and briefly describe the monetary disaster that has just befallen me. He must see the desperation in my eyes, and my near-to-tears look, as he lets us on. Thank you lovely London bus driver.
The second stressy moment is on the day of our return journey home. We need to make 2 tube changes to get to Paddington, but on the way there we read a big sign saying no access to Paddington station from some underground lines due to engineering work. How do those few words manage to excuse any transport company the misery and panic that ensues among the thousands of travellers? I resign myself to the fact that any trip to London will contain at least one transport mishap or headache. We finally arrive at Paddington - hot, exhausted, relieved, and I look at the departure board with my fingers crossed (and probably my eyes too at this point I'm so frazzled), and hope in my eyes. Megan chooses this moment to jokingly say "The train to Newquay has been cancelled". This is no time for jokes, and I think the look I give her says it all, but I see a smile on her face widen and know this is not the end of her hilarity. "The train to Newquay has been delayed". At this point, the train info on the board moves along one, and for the briefest of moments our train does in fact say 'cancelled' as the next train takes the place of ours. We both look at each other and make that weird noise that one only emits at moments when disaster has just been averted. "Phoo, phoo, whoo, whoo, whoo". A cookie and a cup of tea is quicky purchased as a calm-me-down.
We are picked up at the station by Steve and Brody. Brody is so excited his bum nearly falls off with the wagging and I'm surprised at how much I've missed him. Until of course later that night when he almost attacks me and goes for the jugular in one of his moments of mania. The teeth marks on my arm will take a while to disappear. He has also taken a liking to pulling on threads of our carpet with his tiny needle teeth, until he has a good long piece of thread and just pulls. I half expect the whole carpet to unravel before my eyes. "No!" and "leave!" as usual just seems to excite and encourage him further. Trying to jam one of his own toys in his mouth as a distraction also does not work. Picking him up and moving him (with him with mouth wide open, swinging his head side to side, trying to grab skin with his little razors) solves the problem for about 2 seconds. He then just starts chewing the carpet on the new spot he now finds himself. Ho hum, home sweet home.
No comments:
Post a Comment