It’s a Monday. I’m going to excuse my lack of behaviour because of the old “Monday is the actor’s day off” trick.
I woke up in the morning to discover that my nose was leaking. While I had been sleeping, someone had filled my brain with sponges and then taken a blowtorch to the back of my throat. I honestly hadn’t heard them sneaking into the flat. There was no trace of them. But their work was thorough and I am still in quite some discomfort as a result of it. It was so bad that I didn’t want coffee. I didn’t. Want. Coffee. Too dehydrating. I had water instead. Then I slowly and contemplatively ate a donut. Then I went back to bed and slept until repeated phone calls hauled me back to pain.
Majorca is ON. It took a while for the deposit to come in, and sadly the lost time means that I have missed the chance of a cabin on the boat over. I’m gonna drive to Spain and then sleep in a fecking chair. I’ll arrive at 6am and my first day there is going to be hell. I slept or languished for an entire day on arrival last time – and that was with a cabin.
But… I had to be awake to sort out accommodation etc before that all gets booked up and closed down too. Lou is gonna fly and meet me. She thinks about things further ahead than I do. It was her pulling me from sleep so we could find somewhere nice to stay.
Still, even on a Monday, a man can’t stay in bed all day even if it’s warm. Once you’re active the symptoms of cold tend to recede. I got up and booked things so I now have the whole route to Majorca and back to Barcelona sorted for transport links and accommodation. I’m holding off on clarifying the return leg just in case Tristan can be persuaded to get a cheap flight to Barcelona ahead of a post Brexit ROAD TRIP through the South of France, or my downstairs neighbour needs something from Biarritz. I’ll want to have the details all squared off before I leave though so I can tell immigration when I’m coming back to the UK. They might get antsy if I don’t have a return booked, now that we’ve isolated ourselves and destroyed our economy because of squabbling old Etonians and a large number of frightened simple folk with primary school ideas about sovvrinntee.
Most of the bookings were made with these leaky eyes and this squeaky brain though so maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up and discover that I’m driving to Barcelona via Budapest. It is done though. Now I just have to not break down or drive off the road etc. Having done the drive before it is not such a concern. Last time, it was a surprisingly pleasant journey despite one day of absolutely torrential rain. I might get an interesting dense book on audible. The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire perhaps.
Hopefully there’ll be sunshine in the Balearics and on the way for a clear drive. Last time I was worried and there were no issues. I don’t want to be not worried this time in case something goes to tits. It just takes one asshole… It’s a long way, and Bergie dropped his clutch only a few months ago. I’ll likely shell out again on expensive insurance and change the oil etc etc. Better safe than sorry.
I hate having a cold, but at least I don’t have to go to work today.