I made it onto the coach! In my mind I have broken this journey down into several steps to make it less stressful. Kent to London, London to Luton, navigating my way through the airport, the flight (gulp), Malta airport and hopefully finding my sister waiting for me, car ride to ferry port (I’m almost as nervous in cars as I am on planes), ferry ride to Gozo from Malta at early hours of the morning, car to Amchara resort. So far I have made it past several of my worries. I caught the train, got through Victoria station without encountering terrorists, and made it onto the coach on time. Yay! However we have two potential problems.
The first is that in order to catch the coach I bi-passed the chance to wee at the station. At the time I felt fine about this. Now I’m on the coach and it has no toilet and the seatbelt is pressing on my bladder and I have an hour and a half to two hours of this before I get to Luton. My fuddy bladder is already legendary on Facebook and beyond. This isn’t good. Secondly, I developed random back ache this morning just by looking at my carry on luggage and thinking I don’t have my boyfriend, Andre, or Jude to carry the heavy things for me like the princess I am. In order to alleviate this I had the brain wave to undo my bra strap at the back where it was hurting. I am only wearing a flimsy tshirt and now one of my boobs has escaped from the bra hammock that is only clinging on by the shoulder straps. It is about four inches lower than the one that has not yet escaped. I am on a coach full of people and can do nothing about this for 2 hours plus. I am thinking it doesn’t matter as I am traveling alone so there is no one for me to embarrass. But if something bad happens to me en route then the news will play back cctv footage of me over and over with one boob up, one down, until my family can’t take it any more. Am even more determined to survive this journey. Although when I go through the X-ray thing at the airport will they be able to see my bra fiasco on a big screen?
Also, I just ate a giant chocolate cookie in rebellion against what is to come at the retreat. It was horrible. The cookie tasted like insulation foam so in the end I just scraped off the choc chips using my top front teeth. Yes. I am the woman on the coach with wonky boobs scraping my face along a cookie. This is why I am not usually allowed out by myself.