The perils of wandering from home

Sorry I haven't been blogging but I have been mega busy. I have just returned from the Isle of Man, teaching on an ALS course and trying to sort out an inter island partnership out. I know, doesn't that sound professional?  The thing I miss about being on the mainland (Oh my god, that's so jerseyfied...mainland!, I mean the UK) , well the thing I miss is being with other resuscitation officers. No we don't run in pacts, but I miss looking over my shoulder and saying what do you think?  So an inter island partnership sounds like a good idea. For those that know me will recall when I wander from the comfort of home , I tend to return with a story. This visit was no different. I knew a story was pending when I appeared to of lost my ALS manual  from my luggage that was booked in hold. As we were about to board, sitting at the gate, in front of everyone the baggage handler held up my manual and said "who belongs to this?" Everyone starred, I had to put my hand up, I felt sheepish like I had been outed for having Razzle in my bag. There was a spot of whispering as very clearly Advanced Life Support was displayed on the front cover. Bugger I thought now people will think I am medical, oh I know I can pretend to be a candidate learning it for the first time, they never read their manuals, winks! Fortunately the flight was uneventful.

As I write this blog I recall my many mishaps with hotels and adventures. Some of which you will be aware of as on each return from a trip, I say "you will never believe this".

Dublin holds the most memories for me. A very long time ago, young and heartbroken I decided to go to Dublin to find myself following falling out with a boy. Reading books of traumatic love, starring wistfully on a sun kissed evening at the river Liffey, wandering and weeping with  a broken heart was to be the order of the day. So I am not so sure how I found myself knocked over by a rather husky transvestite in  big shoes, looking up how to dial the fire brigade as my hotel caught fire and shouting someone call an ambulance whilst I was attending a Live art show.

I arrived at my hotel all sad with puffy eyes and decided I would wander and go to the museum of modern art. I am the type of girlie that likes that kind of thing. I once stayed in La louvre staring at the Mona Lisa for 40 minutes. Anyway I digress. So there I was front row of this rather select gathering in the museum. We were all hushed as the show began. A rather beautiful Bulgarian girlie appeared in a dressing gown and commenced chattering in her native tongue. I didn't get it but I didn't want to own up so I did a lot of nodding. Bollock naked she preceded to lie on a block of ice, twittering away. I whispered to the chap next to me, "she is going to get some nasty ice burns if she stays there much longer". He looked at me with a "don't talk to me you idiot " look. Then it got worse! She etched a star into her abdomen which promptly bled. People were clapping, oh my god really clapping. I jumped up as she threw herself on the floor, "someone call an ambulance". She pinged up, took a bow and people clapped. I was asked to leave, as I shuffled out muttering "nutty mare" under my breath, I felt you can shove your live art shows.



Be Jesus, its Babs Cabs!



I was still muttering when I went to cross the road outside the museum, and only stopped when a BMW laid me out on the bend. looking up I saw the biggest pink kitten heels I have ever seen and was met with " What the feck, you alright love?" If you have ever seen league of gentleman, I would of sworn it was Babs that had knocked me over, with his husky voice and twin set. He picked me up and offered to take me back to my hotel, I promptly accepted and with hindsight that was possibly not my best idea, but I decided a serial killer wouldn't have such great taste in shoes. So I was dropped off at my hotel.

As I lay on my bed wondering when I could start the heart breaking moments of tears of a lost love, when I smelt smoke. I starred at the ceiling a bit longer, recalling how the boy I had fallen out with had written a letter of 3 pages extolling the benefits of open dating! I had cried so much over that letter, all crumpled in my hand and smudged I commenced reading it again.The smoke smell got stronger, bugger I will have to just put my heart breaking on hold a minute. I opened my door and went down the stairs,  the hotel was on fire. It wasn't so much a hotel but more a little guest house. There was only one other person in the hotel. Shit we both thought we need to get the fire brigade. I had a mental block of the number to ring so with flames licking the walls I preceded to thumb threw the yellow pages. Frantically I shouted to the other guest I can't find the number. His response "look under f******g F wasn't that helpful"! Someone must of called them as we were rescued and scooted onto the pavement.

I decided to return home that day because my self discovery and heart breaking wasn't working out. So a week after looking down a tequila bottle I was cured and I destroyed the letter and moved on. 

The second time I returned to Dublin was bonkers to say the least. Having breakfast after a week of nights and slightly pished by 1500, I found myself on an aeroplane with a boy I had only known 7 days for St Patrick's day. As we sobered up on the plane and never spoke one word, the sudden realisation was what on earth have I just done. neither of us could recall being in the travel agents. ( I saw that very travel agent several weeks later, fortunately flights were booked to New York!. There should be a law against selling 2 drunks who clearly don't know each other ruddy holidays). Arriving to the hotel and seeing a double bed..ah well in for a penny in for a pound! I spent most of it dressing his newly developed mastitus, from when I had pierced his nipple with something that looks like it could accomadate a pig's snout. Oh the romance!



I have returned to Dublin since, under more sensible circumstances. Oh hang on, a weekend of attending celebrity owned clubs, rickshaw races and sitting on a roof of a hotel till the sun came up with two lovely people and my boy of the moment, maybe not that sensible, but a hoot nonetheless.

Since then I have had to stay in hotels where I have had rubber sheets and felt I had peed; a Victorian themed hotel where  two manikins, a woman in Victorian garb and a boy chimney sweep perched at the bottom of my bedstead, somewhere where food was served on pyrex dishes because all the plates had been broken and somewhere on when I went to my room the mini bar had been cleared because they had been instructed "I had a problem" (wrong guest). They filled it and I ate everything in it and drank what I could out of spite, cheeky sods! 

Returning to the Isle of man, I had a little incident of being half dressed locked outside my room. I am dating as you know and was on the phone to him, when there was a knock at the door. A waiter had a bottle of champagne for me, I said nope wrong room and sent him away. It was a surprise for me from my current boy. I ran out the door to shout him when it shut. No shoes, bare legs wearing only a skirt and top, bra removed I had to trek outside in the rain to reception. Girls with reasonable sized breasts should not be out with no bra! Mortified I had to say the champagne was mine and could they let me back in my room. At dinner that evening I felt the reception and waiting on staff whisper about me. I am hoping it was aww she got champagne from her current boy, not that's her with no bra!

Anyway my trip was productive and I hope there is a future in working together. Meanwhile I will try and stay out of trouble and not find myself in predicaments. Like that will ever happen!