Even now I’m ‘blonde’ I still call them that. Oh man people, I had a rather more eventful evening last night than I planned.
The day started so well too. Our Guides were having their sports night at the Trefoil Campsite on Monday evening. I was to be in charge of building a campfire for the purposes of toasting marshmallows on. I knew I’d have to be there early. So I was prepared. I drove my car to Murrayfield area in the morning (so I could stop off at Chinese takeaway on way home which I preorder while on the bus!) and miraculously on the street where the airport bus stop is there was one Cassie-sized parking space left. As I walked down the street I saw the airlink bus go past. I thought I’d missed it. Amazingly it had stopped at the stop and was sitting there.
That NEVER happens.
I thought to myself ‘wow, this is going to be an amazing day – things are going so smoothly‘
The centre was MENTAL that morning like Oxford Street on a Saturday before Christmas. Sarah suggested I leave early so I could get home earlier, which I did since the centre was covered. I strolled off to Waverley Station to catch the airport bus back to my car. My Dad called me, the bus departed and as soon as we hung up my phone rang again.
It was Sarah.
“You’ve left your keys – like…all of them…in the office“
At this point I’m sitting in a tramwork jam on George Street. I’m on the airport bus, which is limited stop and at this point am sooo thankful I’m not almost home already. I jump off at the first of its stops (West End) and start speed walking through the tourists along Princes Street to meet Sarah to get my keys.
We meet back at Waverley. We laugh, I thank Sarah, say goodbye, I see the next airport bus about to leave, run towards it…
Trip up and twist my ankle.
By this point it’s 6.30 p.m. and I have 30 mins to get to Trefoil.
I get my car and drive as quickly as I can to my house – skipping the stop at the Chinese takeaway I’d planned – to get my guide jumper (flung over my clothes – no changing into jeans), make some toast, fill a flask with water and rifle through our recycling box for cardboard to use as kindling for the campfire.
‘uhhh, this cardboard is dripping wet‘ I exclaim, thinking it’s because it’s got soaked somehow.
And then I realise. It’s not the cardboard – it’s my flask of water which has soaked my sleeve, hoodie and is dripping down my arm and leg.
I race to Trefoil, and realise as I change into my socks and wellies, that my socks were in the pouch of my hoodie and are soggy from my water flask accident.
Thankful to have made it, the rest of the evening went fine despite finding a dead animal carcass on the grass,breaking two fingernails with a log covered in slugs and finding a frog (or a toad?) in the woodpile. And struggling to get a fire going with damp wood from the weekend of monsoon style winter rain.
Now I have short nails, clean hair, a pile of clothes in my laundry basket (it was muddy even if it didn’t rain yesterday) and today I watched a couple of tourist stare at Calton Hill/Waverley Station and say ‘That must be the Parliament building‘.