Plague Island – 1* would not recommend.

**I forgot I’d written this and shoved it into drafts, I blame Covid obvs. So backdate the below events by a month if you’d be so kind.

Captains log, Stardate roughly 11th October 2022.

Well, welcome to hell my friends. This is the worst trip to the UK I could have envisaged, and it’s not over yet.

Arrived on Sunday afternoon, straight to a local pub for dinner with the fam which was delightful, all good apart from a good 30 minute wait for our table, (waitress also did spill my drink on my meal, but meh, I’m still pretty chill at this point). Plans for the week were, eye test, lunch with Sis, breakfast with a friend, and some good quality time with Mum given this was just a Sunday to Thursday short trip.

The universe had other plans.

Monday, eye test, fine, no problems. Met big Sis in our local shopping centre, and waited a disproportionate length of time for a pumpkin spiced latte, which included watching one of the staff peering into the end of the cream dispenser that wouldn’t work, and narrowly missing getting an eyeful…. I did a little out loud squeaky laugh, because it seems I’ve forgotten how to behave around people, but it was funny, and when you pay £15 for 2 coffees and 2 muffins you shouldn’t wait 20 minutes. Just saying.

We’re just wandering round the first shop for a mooch, and Sis gets a call from her builder and immediately has to leave because he needs access to a power source. So lunch was off. I decided to stay so I could have a wander round Monsoon. Nope, all boarded up either being refurbed or changing to another shop, I know not. I consoled myself with a solo 5 Guys burger, which if I’m honest, has been the highlight of my trip.

Went back to Mums, and because my sister was having some remedial work done on her resin driveway, she was now trapped in the house, and my nephew and brother in law, weren’t allowed to walk on it until 8.30 that evening, so they came round to ours to wait it out, the poor things. There was a chance they might have to stay here overnight if it hadn’t set enough, but fortunately it was fine.

Tuesday was when it started to really head down hill, even though I didn’t realise it at the time. I woke up with a blocked nose and had a 5 minute sneezing fit. Mum uses feather pillows, and I’m allergic to them. I went to the local supermarket, took some antihistamines, and was fine within the hour. Thought no more about it. Rang big sis to see if she wanted a coffee and a sandwich from the cafe, cafe wasn’t open (you see how well my week has been), so I went to hers for giant crumpets and a latte, another highlight of the week. By lunchtime, Mum had surfaced, so I took her a sandwich for lunch, and all is still well. I had a little nap in the afternoon, and I felt like I had a little bit of a chill, the hairs on my arms hurt, if you know what I mean. lasted about an hour, then felt fine again. Got fish and chips – happy days, went to bed.

In the middle of the night, 2 hours of very intense heat, not really sweaty, but just burning up. Then gone again. I realised at this point that we might be in trouble.

When I woke up on Wednesday, I had a dreadful sore throat, completely congested sinuses and ear ache, plus a snotty nose. Shit! I went downstairs to do a test, and 2 of the thickest, blackest, clearest lines appeared in seconds. Double Shit! I put a mask on immediately, opened all the windows and disinfected door handles, tv remotes, phones, the bathroom, and retreated to my room, with the hope that Mum might not catch it.

I broke the news to the hubs who should have been in the office in the south of France next week, which of course he’s had to cancel, and I’ve booked another flight for the 20th, in the hopes I’ll have the 2 negative tests I need by then.

I should have flown home yesterday morning, Ryanair convivially reminding me every few minutes of my boarding gate. Bugger off! Most unimpressed, I want to go home!!!

We’re a one bathroom household, so I was wearing a mask and disinfecting everything, every time I went in, but heaven knows how effective that was in the end, because Mum woke up snotty on Thursday morning and we got a faint positive test. I obviously feel dreadful about it because she’s suffering more than I seem to be, and I don’t sleep well because I’m listening out for her all the time. But, at least we can be in the same room now and I can keep her furnished with hot drinks and paracetamol.

It’s weird though, because her symptoms are mirroring mine exactly just 48hrs behind. We’ve been watching the Crown which she’s loving. Turns out she once went to the Opera in Leeds with my Dad, and as they were walking up the stairs, they were directly behind Tommy Lascelles, the Queen’s private secretary, and his wife. Apparently their opera cloaks were tattered and full of holes, and a bit of a shambles. It was clearly a different time, but now I feel like I need an opera cloak…..or just a generic capelet, I’m not fancy.

So fast forward to November now, I safely made it home on the 20th October after the necessary negative tests, and despite my taste and smell taking it’s sweet time to return, my first wrangle with Covid came under the “I’ve had worse” category. It took Mum longer to recover with a much worse cough, but fortunately she’s fine now, well, still as mad as cheese, but fine.

The flight was delayed though due to dreadful fog at Leeds Bradford and I was starting to stress that it was going to be cancelled as a fair few of the earlier flights out of LBA had been. A French couple asked me what the problem was and I politely explained the flight was delayed because of the “noisy”. Yep, noisy…..Because I’m a moron. French for noisy is bruyant, French for foggy is brumeux. I will never master this language!!!

Laters, V x

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s