Still playing catch up (originally posted Mar 11/09)

Dressed for the weather

It looks sunny, but it's spring in Vancouver - it's cold!

We’re here! Or there, depending on where you are. The tiny Weasels behaved impeccably in the immediate run up to Depature, but Mrs Dim and I had tantrums and were aggressively non-adult.

The OAPs generously hosted the AP’s to lunch so they could all have their shot at saying goodbye without my mother carrying out her threat to come to the airport with banners and protests, screaming, crying and hanging onto our legs to prevent us leaving. Lunch seemed the better option.

We got away with the minimum of sentiment, but still the maximum number of suitcases. I didn’t think they’d all fit in the giant taxi we booked, but we just made it and still had room for the weasels. As we drove away, it felt like the day was really beginning, rather than the end of something. This is a feeling I’ve had all along, through all the goodbyes we’ve said. For heaven’s sake, we’ve lived in South Wales and Cambridgeshire, we have no fear of isolation from our friends…at least this time we’re only going to Canada.

Inevitably we had to repack the cases at check in, but only the one. I had been dreading them throwing an entire case away because it was too heavy, but I guess they wouldn’t be allowed to lift it if it was. We got through security and my laptop didn’t melt in the scanner (obviously – I’m still using it!) We still couldn’t relax and tried getting drinks and snacks, but they didn’t have the food the weasels wanted and no one was happy. I was starting the think it would be ten hours of hell when we finally got on the plane, but actually it wasn’t too bad. Me and Middle Weasel were seated next to a poor innocent woman who was subjected to around eight hours of constant babble, with Middle weasel explaining about everything from the film she was watching to the explanation for volcanoes (I love seeing people’s faces when she says “Pyroclastic flow”…) The lady finally put in her earphones, put on her mask and threw her coat over her head. Middle weasel kept talking though….

Tiniest Weasel was the only one of us who actually slept, but it didn’t help her be any less grumpy than the rest when we staggered off the plane in Vancouver. What do you know, no fireworks, or banners or Mountie Reception committee. Tsk, tsk. I’ve a good mind to emigrate somewhere else next time. We collected the Luggage Mountain and joined a queue in the Immigration Office. They took our pictures and asked a lot of impertinent questions, but we were eventually cleared to go through. We’d made it! It was a little worrying, the way they locked the office and went home after they were done interviewing us. What if there were more immigrants on the next flight? Would they have to sit and wait until 9 the next morning?

Sadly, the only vehicle at the airport with the capacity to convey our luggage to the apartment we’d booked was a stretch limo. This was more like it! We zipped through the night in fine style, but felt too hollow-cheeked and scratchy-eyed to appreciate it. All we wanted was sleep. But there was a chilly ten minute wait outside the apartment before we were let in and then there was the scramble to get the weasels bedded down. Although all I wanted was to drop onto the couch and sleep the night away (it was ten at night local time, but something silly o’clock in the morning according to my body – maybe half past July or quarter to lemon..) I was the only one who knew this part of Vancouver, so I had to run to the shops to buy enough provisions for breakfast. The 7-11 was close enough and I bagged enough godies to make it worth waking up, then I went to bed. It was a simple fold-out bed, the blankets were too thin and the pillows were too fluffy. It was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years.

One response to “Still playing catch up (originally posted Mar 11/09)

  1. Pingback: Fifth Anniversary : Looking forward and back | Damian Trasler's Secret Blog - Do Not Read!

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