What am I saying? Guess I drifted off a little. Go away, Jim Morrison!
It might have not been my only friend, not even my friend at all, but the truth is, this was the end. The end of our trip.
I am always torn, on one hand I don't want to go and I think of what I wasn't able to do. I wanted to do the haunted graveyard tour and I wanted to see the Museum of Scotland. I wanted to lie in the grass with my book and look at the sky. I wanted to meet Taz' kitties.
On the other hand I missed my kitties so much. And my stash and tools. These are the ones I can't talk to on the phone. I tried, but a rubber mallet doesn't give good answers on the phone.
I didn't have a choice anyway. In the morning Mr. Organised himself packed our stuff (he's good if he wants to, I wish he'd organise my stash like that!), we had breakfast, paid our hotel bill and waited for our ride to the airport.
This is what I hate most about a trip. Into the queue to check in the bags, into the queue to go through security (I still wonder who that policeman in uniform and the three other guys were that cut in line in front of me, but I love to hear an official "Excuse me, Ma'am, may we?" in a bass voice. As if I had a choice, right. At least they could have told me if the two that didn't look like police were important witnesses or convicts to satisfy my curiousness), then waiting in the airport. Buying a bar of chocolate, something to drink. Sitting around, sitting around, sitting around until the gate is open.
Edinburgh is a cute little airport. I like the big posters on the walls with famous quotes about the town and pictures, but I liked it more when we could board the plane. I liked when the captain announced there would be served a snack soon "Chicken or cheese. Or vegetarian. Which is - eh - um - cheese." I liked that I had the book from Oxfam that I actually enjoyed reading. I liked it when we could see London. We circled above it a few times and I pointed out places to the tall guy (had I mentioned I got the window seat because the girl in the aisle seat didn't want to trade hers with Wolfgang. For him window or middle doesn't make a difference, his long legs are in the way everywhere and we hadn't got an exit row seat), longing to go down and spend some more time there. Instead we were spat out at Heathrow and waited some more, even longer now. This place is crowded, man! It was hard enough to find two seats. It's seemed ages to me until our gate was finally open and then we had to wait there some more.
When we finally had settled, the purser came and told the tall guy there was a seat in the exit row if he wanted to. My brave man - after hearing it was just one seat he decided to live with his seat (at least aisle this time) and not leave me. Maybe it would have been better if he had taken it. We were delayed, not much, but long enough to drive him crazy which drives me crazy. I'll cut it short from here. We made it to Stuttgart, yay!
But our luggage didn't. When there was only one last case making its rounds, ours were still missing. Like a god of revenge the tall guy stormed the information counter. We were first in the line this time. There were about 10 or 12 other victims behind us. Our lugguage had been left in London. I knew we should have stayed there! ;-) I get to a point easily when I start giggling about small, not life-threatening catastrophes.
As soon as we arrived at home - it was 7.30 pm now - the phone rang. They told me our luggage had been left in London. Ehm, ah, ok? Didn't I already know that? It will come with the last machine arriving 11 pm. Yes, we will deliver it to the door the next morning. Is the address right? Yes, ok. Tomorrow morning. We'll give you a call beforehand. It's always good to get the same information twice, I guess.
The next morning, I should really call it Göppingen Day 1. We are waiting, we are waiting. The phone is ringing. Ah, now they tell us they will be here any minute and I can start working on the pendant bail. Of course my hooks, pliers etc. had to go into the cases because they are sharp. I am a ninja, I can kill with my crochet hooks, didn't you know? Hello, your luggage has been found. Ehm, ah, ok? We already really, really know that by now, don't we? We will deliver it in the afternoon. Stop!! What do you mean, afternoon?? When? I don't know, we will give you a call beforehand.
Mister, the giggling times are over. You are holding my hooks and fine silver wire hostage, not even mentioning my malt liqueur and my dirty laundry!
I didn't say that. I thought it.
Really we had had other plans for this day instead of waiting. Of course they said they give us a call before they would set out to deliver, we knew they wouldn't. There would be no chance to get back from wherever when they called. 5 pm. The phone is ringing. Hello? I am driving around here in Göppingen looking for you. Is your house number 13? Aaaaaaah. 3 (!) people had asked for our address. 3 people confirmed the house number we told them. It is NOT 13.
But now we have our luggage back and the bottle didn't even break.
Time for laundry. This is the end, the true end.