He’s only frightened because he’s not used to being out of a flock

 

An important life lesson is when you learn to never say things you do not mean.

The photo above is of a sheep inside the 4* chalet I was working in, in St Anton Austria. And no it is not the extravagant accessory of a fur loving wag or some impressively realistic fancy dress outfit. This is a genuine, authentic, 100% mountain dwelling Austrian Sheep.

                     I made a passing comment to our guests (who was I to know they were all farmers) that I had been wanting to borrow a sheep from the shed across the road to put onto the balcony of my manager. I thought it was possible to orchestrate one of the greatest seasonal practical jokes of all time. I had also been joking-knowing full well that the only way into the shed was through a tiny window (no more than 2ft x 2ft) six foot from the floor, and that the trouble caused by it would be not worth the comedy value.

When the guests asked where the shed was, I thought very little about putting my boots on to show them. What I had not anticipated is that the guys would form a human pyramid to assist the entry into the sheep shed. By this point I was yelling quite a lot “ I was joking!! Let’s stop this and go back! Please, please don’t!" It was pointless so I returned to the chalet.

This is not something I am proud of, but it is part of my past and I have learnt from it, I had become the instigator of the temporary removal and repatriation of livestock.

I had not anticipated that they would catch one of the woolly critters and post him through the window to freedom. They carried the terrified little mite down the icy road to the chalet, entered the key code, buzzed in, and proceeded to carry him up the stairs to the luxury living room. Huddled in  a corner the sheep had no idea what had happened, but I was reassured that “he only looks frightened because he’s not used to being out of the flock”…in addition to the fact he has never seen a leather suite and plasma screen of this scale.

During his moment of fear he had let go of his bladder control and urinated up the stairs and through the living room. I couldn’t complain, with no form of social conditioning this sheep would have no idea about the correct chalet etiquette.  I would go as far as to say the sheep behaved with more class and composure than most of our guests (adults who cannot be bothered to go to a toilet during the night and have no qualms about using the bed as a urinal, and children who urinate into the sauna water bucket…to make an example of just a few).

After photos were taken I demanded that he was to be returned, alive and safe, to his flock. Being farmers they did reiterate that they were more than competent in humanely catching animals. And they did, he was returned to the shed, with little more than an amazing story for his companions (perfect for whiling away the cold winter nights).

The following day we were told by our manager that guests in another chalet had been causing a nuisance by stealing road signs and causing general havoc. This gave me the perfect opportunity to question company protocol on guest behaviour,

“That’s just terrible Heike, imagine, stealing whilst on holiday…Actually, I did want to ask, just out of curiosity, what is the procedure for animals inside the chalet”

Raised eyebrows

“Like ….farm animals?”

She laughs a little and I can tell that she thinks I am joking.

“Sheep. In the living room. What if there had been sheep inside the chalet.”

She replies “How? Why? When?”. Pretty standard questions for a manager who has just been told that there has been farmyard scene recreated inside one of the chalets.

“Heike, there are pictures, would this help?”

She nods.

At this point I am slightly concerned that the photos may become used against me a later stage but I am confident that our chalet is going to have a reputation above and beyond that of the conventional sign stealing.

We cannot thank you enough. No really.

My entry today is a letter of gratitude to the owner of the Lamai Chalet Resort in Koh Samui

Dearest Pumpui , (his nickname translates quite aptly to “Fatty”- we have some more suggestions for nicknames should he ever want a new one)

I really felt as though I never really expressed my gratitude following our stay in the Lamai Chalet Resort. The charming beach huts, fully equipped with beds (admittedly, one was a mattress on the floor) and a functioning bathroom.We really were thrilled to see that you were kind enough to supply us with a roof as well

The kind advice of your colleague to walk alongside a dual carriage to get the quintessentially whorish resort of Lamai was most appreciated. Having to jump  onto walls and lampposts every time an overweight westerner swoops round the corner on a moped is exactly the kind of adrenaline boosting activity we had been hoping for.

“Located near the Hin Yai Grandfather stone and five minutes to walk into the centre of Lamai, on an wide golden sand Beach. Enjoy the idyllic Panorama and swimming is recommended here as well ! Pumpui Manager of Lamai Chalet will help You for any You need.Holiday begins here without trouble !”

http://www.lamai-chalets.com

Now that wide, golden sand beach- well it was stunning, with the dirty syringes and sewage outlet pipes and the warm aroma of eau de toilet it was more than we had expected.  When I go on a beach holiday I love the thrill of a riptide in the sea, it really is ideal for drowning (which after the first night in our cabin I did try) your worries (had you not been quite so rotund we would have tried gently encouraging you in for a dip). I thought it was a novel idea to decorate the area around the hammock with empty whisky bottles, the light bouncing off the glass really does enhance an all-round tan, genius!

Just when we thought it could not get any better we notice the little extras that you so kindly added to our room, they really did give us a more comfortable night sleep. We just wondered what they were, with two heads and a strong desire to sleep in a bed, we could not identify the little creatures. Initially we were concerned about these unidentifiable insects all over our bed (these were in addition to the black jumping bugs) but we knew that you would be sure to take care of the situation, with yourself being such a fine representation for the Lamai ex-pat population. We were pleased that you could reassure us “ I don’t know what they are, but they won’t hurt you”. What a relief! They won’t hurt us, whatever they may be. And what’s that you say? Ah yes you will get someone to clean the room! Brilliant.

                  Do thank the maids for cleaning our room, we were relieved that when we returned later in the day the insects had rallied their friends for a slumber party on our beds. I may sound like a selfish prude but I don’t care whether these bugs have teeth of cheese or teeth of a piranha I DO NOT WANT THEM IN MY BED! We are still bewildered as to what they are, so I have posted a photo below for you keen insectologists to study.

I am just glad that you were there to solve any problems. Like when my friend asked about changing our transport to a train or plane and you confidently reassured us that we would be going on one VIP bus to Bangkok and that it would be safe and efficient. Two buses, a minibus and a boat later and we arrived in Bangkok more-or-less in one piece. We arrived but some of our possessions did not. We would like you to pass on our gratitude to the diligent coach drivers who went above and beyond the call of duty by working throughout the night in the cramped conditions of the luggage compartment to rummage through our bags. I hope he enjoyed searching through the bag full of sanitary items to find my debit card, and he enjoyed spending the 60,000 Thai Baht (£1500) even more. Consider it a little gift from me to him. From the three of us I do hope he makes good use of the credit card, debit card, bag, jumper,belt and knickers which were so thoughtfully removed from our locked luggage.

 

 

We really ought to have known better when the Lonely Planet guide suggests the Tesco Lotus as the best place for food in Lamai- a perfect indication of the class of resort we found ourselves in.

Thank goodness for the cultural highlights that Lamai has to offer, the Grandfather rock provided us with the only memorable experience which we had to share with our family. And even that, a natural rock formation, is not really appropriate for family viewing.

 

We cannot thankyou enough for our unforgettable stay, one which we have relayed the tales of to all our friends and family. We will be sure to make an accurate and true review to add to the many others on Trip Adviser.

Kind Regards,

The English Girls.

A little lesson in flying-from one elf to another

When you work in Lapland there are limited after-work activities (other than drinking-and at £10 a pint this is an expensive hobby) which do not involve the risk of actual bodily harm.

The Kaunispaa in Saariselka is claimed to be Europe’s longest toboggan run and provides a sufficient “run up” to the ramp at the bottom (which is in fact a ramp to stop stray tobogganers from flying into the main road, ideally situated at the bottom). In the video below my fellow elf and friend, the amazing Laura, demonstrates bravery, sportsmanship, imagination and driving skills to navigate the run in the dark(which is all the time in Lapland) and to finish with a video worthy photo.

 

We believed that she had been watching Father Christmas training with the reindeers and thought she would give the “flying-mallarkey” a try for herself. Some would say she was utilising her initiative in order to give the reindeers a helping hand with a one elf open toboggan.

However, elves are not known for their ability to foresee danger (and before you say it NO we did not assess the ‘Elf and Safety beforehand), and it had not snowed for several days and it had been extremely cold. Such factors make for the 1.2km of toboggan run to become a vertical ice rink, of which Laura was descending at an unhumanly rapid speed, negotiating the hair pins, bridges and trees. She arrived at the bottom before she had left the top, and when she did I was poised ready with the camera on video mode,prepared to capture the first images of a flying elf.

 

I am sure you will appreciate the encouragement I showed for Laura “COME ON LAURA”, as she approaches the kicker at the bottom, I yell. We had half expected her to curb her speed before hitting it, but being the courageous soul that she is, she gained speed instead. Not one of us anticipated what was to happen next, let alone that there was any possibility of there being any form of problem, its TOBOGGANNING for Pete’s sake! Children do it!

With our eyes wide with awe, cameras ready, we watched (what used to be)5ft 4 inches of elf fly through the air with such grace you would be correct in comparing her to a gazelle mid run, for what felt like minutes. And then she landed. Still sitting bolt upright. Her spine concertina-ing as her sledge hit the solid ice. We whooped and cheered and then shouted at her to get out the way before being hit by Nick (also heading for the Ramp-of-death).

I have to admit that I was still laughing when I realised that she was quite badly hurt. Laura, wheezing, squeaking and crying, was visibly damaged. It wasn’t until she stood up (I laughed as she tried to stand up too) that we could see the extent of the situation. As she got back onto her feet it became immediately clear that in that moment of landing she had lost VALUABLE inches of her height and the fear that she had cracked a rib, if not multiple ribs,punctured a lung and /or broken her back. Despite this, I laughed the whole way home, replaying the scene in my head, whilst the boys held her solidly so not to trip and lose another few inches on the way.

By the time we returned to Lumpaloma (our cabin) she could barely be seen at all. When our friends asked what had happened it just seemed to be the sensible thing to show the video. I could never describe the event as accurately as the video.  I suggested that she should be getting medical assistance (regardless of the comedy mileage it was giving us I was still concerned for her life) and that we ought to bring the laptop to show the doctor exactly how she fell. However, the local hospital is 3 hours away and it was decided the best action was for her to not move.

Over a year later and she still suffers from a concerning pain in her lung when she lies flat, a damaged ego and the once in a lifetime experience of self propelled flying.

I have decided to share this video because today was not one of the best and this a fool-proof way of making it much better. Thanks Laura.

‘Le langage est source de malentendus’

              "Language is the source of misunderstandings” Le Petit Prince

So instead I shall use pictures.

                                                       Today we went for a walk.

To where we did not know.

We walked and walked and stopped and talked, and then we walked some more.

Of what was said, and what was done, the details I’m not so sure.

St Anton and Lech

Once I had skiied the majority of what the French Alps had to offer I began to think I was beginning to exhaust the best of Europe’s skiing. Le Trois Vallee hit every mark in terms of variety of slopes, challenging piste and off piste, and the all important apres ski scene. Having three major resorts nestled in the valleys means that there is a resort for literally everyone. So, when I was posted to work in St Anton,Austria, there were to be some serious judgements.

In the last few years I have become increasingly addicted to scaring myself through skiing. If I have a day where I haven’t had a cold sweat then I don’t feel as though I have skiied. Before leaving for Austria I had done my reading into the ski area and I had noted that much of the pistes were listed as reds and blacks, perfect for taking the leap from the intermediate plateau to advanced. There were also mentions of apres ski of a whole different league.

The resort itself is quintessentially alpine with a modern twist to accomodate the younger generation of skiiers. The main road still has a majority of traditional chalets which now house ski shops, burger shops,restaurants and of course,not to forget the Apres Ski, bars.For those of you with a sweet tooth then make sure a visit to the Backerei Ruetz is on your list, proceed to eat all contents behind the counter before heading home. Off the main road you will find the newly built glass Wellness Centre, complete with indoor and outdoor pools, saunas, an aggressive whirlpool (I suggest wearing an all-in-one swimming costume or you will join the bikini bottom chasers) ,cafes and restaurants.Although it is slightly more expensive to be used daily it is still a valuable asset to the resort and perfect for relaxing those calf muscles after a hard day on the mountain. St Anton is conveniently located an hour from Innsbruck and has a central train station with frequent trains to Innsbruck and Zurich.

O.K so lets get onto the more important business of the mountain.  There are two main gondolas in the resort which take you to two different mountains, the Rendl and the Galzig. The Rendl lift was only constructed in the last three years and gets a lot less attention than the Galzig.  On the Rendl side there are a lot less pistes than the Galzig but still plenty to keep yourself busy, the slopes are best in the morning as the main lower piste has a tendency to get icy by the afternoon ( I would suggest swallowing your pride and take the lift back down when the snow gets sketchy). There are a number of nice bars and restaurants at the top of the gondola, alongside Rendl Beach, rows of deckchairs situated above the snow park for the chance to catch some sun and watch the pros kick it. The snowpark is well maintained and has graded kickers and box rails for every ability.

At the weekend part of the runs get used for racing so you are forced to check out some of the other pistes and itinerarys. The itinerarys on the Rendl side tend to consist of waist high moguls which can sometimes be unpleasant without recent snowfall, none the less they are challenging and can be ticked off the piste map. For beginners Rendl can be daunting and perhaps overly ambitious, there is only one run back to resort and this is under graded as a red. There is a nursery slope beside the snowpark with a button lift serving as the only lift.

On one of our many off piste lessons we were taken down the North Face of Rendl, and I would not suggest attempting it without a guide. There is plenty of oppurtunity to descend too low and be completely stranded on rocky ledges with no way up or out. Our guide took us over the R2 run and drops down beneath the avalanche barriers, from here there is an itinerary, but we go beyond the marked off piste, and down to the treeline where we traverse across to ski down between the trees. There was only one point on this route that I grew wary, when the instructor stops the group and warns us “we do not ski anymore, we climb, NO SKI” .

Which is what happened, we scaled down a rocky face with our skis on, listening to the unbearable grinding (of both my teeth and my skis), not bringing myself to look down at the miniature resort below (knowing only how I could be down there in quick time if I looked). If I could make one recommendation it would be to wear a lot of deodorant and no thermals on the off piste lessons, you sweat more than a pig in a wetsuit. By the time you cross back onto the piste you are more than ready for the ever available apres ski at the Mooservert or the Krazy Kangaruh (K.Ks to the locals).

The Galzig has far more runs and has links to other ski areas around St Anton such as Stuben, Sonnenkopf and Lech (the latter two can be reached by bus from Stuben), and so offers a greater variety of terrain. The itineraries, which I mentioned before, are marked off piste and are patrolled and protected from avalanches. They have often been skiied by many before you and so do not offer the powder perfection of unmarked off piste, but still they allow you to work on technique and are a safer alternative too.  The mountains around St Anton are steep and avalanches are a too familiar scene, especially around Stuben and Schindlergrat, so I would approach the off piste with caution.

We made a day excursion to Sonnenkopf, commonly called the “Powderbowl” and we were surprised at what we were to find. Its’ position is awkward and the best transport to the area is by taxi,making it far quieter than the rest of the Lech-St Anton area. The slopes were deserted and we arrived on a white out, making it difficult to differentiate between the piste and the off piste because of the powder. I had to be rescued by fellow skiers after falling off the piste into a ditch. We ventured into the off piste after noticing some children playing on the natural kickers and spent very little time on the piste there on after. The off piste around the tree line offers plenty of powder to perfect your technique and the only problems to be aware of is dropping down below the main lift, meaning a skis-off-sweat-inducing-hike back up.

St Anton is linked up to Lech,by a free bus which runs between Stuben and Zurs, another huge ski area well worth skiing. Above Zurs and Zug are many challenging itineraries and are often less skied than those around St Anton. Once you have dropped into Zug you will notice the Mercedes practice track for the affluent skiers keen on purchasing a 4x4 or two, between a leisurely ski in the morning and champers in the afternoon

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A great way to get an idea of what Lech has to offer is to ski the White Ring route, which thousands of skiers race in each year. The White Ring will take you to every corner of the Lech ski area but you can do it at which ever pace you like. Some ski guides will reward their skiers with badges and medals for participating but for everyone else, the knowledge of your achievement is merit enough.

Regardless of where you choose to ski, whether it be on or off piste, in the park or in the bars, you are sure to feel as sense of accomplishment by the end of your stay. There is simply no room for complacency in the Arlberg, you either rise to the challenge or you sit and watch from the security of your deck chair. By the end of your day there will be an icy cool Radler (the only word of German I learnt in three months, and it means “shandy”) in the tap and many,many people to enjoy it with. If you like to unwind with an alcoholic beverage or ten whilst simultaneously dancing on a table then you will be sure to love the Mooservirt or the Kangaruh. Or, if you prefer to unwind with a massage and a swim then drop into the Wellness Centre. But, if you are like me then I will find you in the Backerei Ruetz consuming a week’s worth of calories and justifying it by the number of calories burnt through skiing way beyond your so-called-ability.

“I’ve been stung”

  As the sun began to set over Tup Island we were preparing ourselves to embark on the final part of our day trip- snorkelling with phospherent plankton.

For those of you unfamiliar with such plankton then refer back to the film The Beach and the scene with Leo and That-bird romantically involved in the sea surrounded by thousands of glowing creatures. It is these glowing creatures that we were going to be swimming amongst.

The leaflet listing our itinerary for the day trip we had booked states “away from people,you will take an evening swim,and be fluorescent with a dark sky upon you”. And that is exactly what happened, as soon as the sun set behind the horizon and we were submerged into darkness, we made our way back onto the faithful longtail boat to a location beside a rocky cliff. The water was dark and opaque,I paid little thought to what or who would be lurking beneath,let alone any dangers that may be on the way.It was here that the engine stops and we are told “please put on a life jacket and stay close to the boat”. Most the passengers did exactly this-they donned their life jacket and stayed on the boat-what they thought they would achieve I don’t really know.

However, in my Carpe Diem mentality, I hastily put on my life jacket and snorkel, secured myself two male accomplices (who I briefed beforehand that should there be any danger lurking beneath that they would have to take the hit,being gentlemen and all) and jumped right on it. There I went, all 60 kilos of Geiger straight into the Andaman Sea, in the pitch black. Well it was worth it, amazing is by far a massive understatement. The plankton glowed with every move we made and I wasn’t even remotely scared anymore. Above the surface you could not see your hand in front of your face but under the water our every move made the water glow around us.

Once I had half gargled –half shouted from the water about how this was the best experience of my life and that everybody on the boat was missing the best experience of their life Anna and Charlie soon joined us in the water. I was rather impressed that they did because I knew Charlie had mentioned on a few occasions about her apprehensions about being in the water and the sea creatures that live in it.

It was brilliant, the three of us swimming with glowing plankton,until I realised I had been stung on my leg. The fatal words, to say around a nervy snorkeller, fell out of my mouth “I’ve been stu—” . I tried to retract what I had said, hoping Charlie hadn’t heard me, but she had. I tried to confuse her with smiles and by disappearing back under the water, pretending nothing had happened.Why, exactly, was i trying to reassure someone else that the water was perfectly safe when I had just been stung, is beyond me. Once I was out of the water I tried to justify the actions of an unknown jellyfish, bearing in mind I had bombed in on his home uninvited,late at night, I got away relatively lightly.

It was at this point that I noticed the complete lack of concern for my welfare (it could have been a box jellyfish for all they knew, unlikely, but possible none the less). Call me naieve, but I thought that when a person presents you with a jellyfish sting that they should instantly provide their services(urine) to ease the pain . Instead I recieved nothing, I would have been happy with a lolly or a sticker, but nothing was what I got.

O.K, so I haven’t been entirely open with my grievance. What I should have mentioned is that Charlie admitted to me a while later that she had offered her assistance to another passenger who had been stung earlier on in the day.  Not only was he a stranger to us but he had been stung right on the lip. Needless to say he refused her offer.

I would like to add that I did not want her,or anyone else, to empty their bladders onto my leg,but it was merely a principle. After all, it would have provided me with short term relief but a lifetime of not being able to hold eye contact with two of my friends.

“No magic mushrooms for sure”

Small reminders of a tragedy not so long ago

During our recent trip to Thailand we travelled mainly around the islands on the west coast, on the Andaman Sea. The area was hit severely by the Tsunami on Boxing Day 2004 and when we arrived there was small reminders everywhere. In Ao Nang, a sleepy coastal resort in the Krabi province, it is hard to ever imagine the destruction they suffered. The only reason we would have ever known of its painful past was because of the Tsunami evacuation drill posters across the town. A subtle reminder on the beach,a washed up boat with Tsunami painted across, serves as a lonely memorial to the thousands which passed away.

In Koh Phi Phi there are more obvious signs, shops selling commemorative newspaper articles and a “Tsunami Memorial Park” indicated on the map,. We tried to visit the park but could not find it, once we asked at a local hotel we were pointed in the right direction but had previously missed it because of its hidden location.When we find it we discover that the memorial is little more than a bench or two and photos and candles dedicated to a few individuals, but nothing more to mark the lives of the many thousands more who were lost. In addition there are homages in some of the local shops and restaurants, thanking the people who saved their lives and livelihoods and remained to help rebuild this island.

Some of my photos below indicate the reminders we saw along the way, excuse the quality

…

Ao Nang,Krabi

Koh Phi Phi Lay

 

Koh Phi Phi Lay

Ao Nang, Krabi

Garlic Restaurant, Koh Phi Phi Don

Define “reasonable off-piste”

“Ok so what you can see behind me is the Valhalla Couloir?”

I look behind and see what can only be described as a vertical drop with only rocks to cushion my fall. We had come off the Madloch chairlift out of Zurs and were dropping and traversing our way towards Lech.

“In order to get down we need to begin my sliding horizontally down this narrow passage”

I look down, I can see no passage, just rocks and my imminent death lurking menacingly behind. With a little more investigation I see patches of snow which I assume are to be skied upon.

“You are more than competent for this Rosie, so you just have to trust me”

Its not that I don’t trust his ability to get down there alive, its more my confidence in getting to the bottom without triggering an avalanche, or a mountain goat, irate for dropping in to his quiet place uninvited.

“I have assessed the avalanche risk and I have decided that this is the best time for us, it is the morning and the snowpack looks sufficiently stable”

How about my bowels? Because I can tell you for one that they are the opposite to stable and the risk of them cascading down the couloir is high.

“So just follow me and do EXACTLY as I do, and enjoy it”

“Enjoy” it, ENJOY it!! Ha! Now that is not a word I often here used when people describe their near death experiences, the level of pleasure or enjoyment whilst trying to breathe and not defecate all over oneself is not one of my priorities.

Then we go, leaving the safety of the piste behind us, we drop down and edge cautiously into the wider part of the couloir. By the time we reach this I am feeling slightly more at ease of skiing this back country, which is so far beyond my comfort zone that I would need GPS to find it again.

It is undeniably stunning but this is not something you can truly appreciate when you are concentrating on staying in complete control of your skis on this ungroomed and sketchy terrain.  Avoiding the rocks dusted with snow , crevasses and carcasses of skiers-from-years-past takes a huge amount of mental and physical attention. With this in mind you feel like you are skiing, all your trust is on your noble ski equipment, on your muscles, on the mountain and most importantly, in your own ability.

With the bitter alpine wind in your face, your calf muscles burning, your heartbeat racing, you use every tip and advice from previous ski instructors, to successfully descend down this steep and hostile back country. When you reach the bottom of the first section, unclip your skis, throw your hands above your head, turn around and thank your lucky stars that you have made it down alive. It is only when I reach the bottom that I can inhale the enormity of what we had just done. I had never doubted that I was capable of skiing but I had concerns and doubts about our safety and whether or not we could be considered as negligent and reckless.

Once you stop hearing your blood pounding you realise the only noises in the valley is the wind whipping across the peaks. We just stood for a while, watching and listening, gathering our breath back (I hadn’t bothered with breathing after I first looked down from the piste at the top), then clipped back into our bindings and continued.

The last part of our route took us alongside a stream and so the skiing was non demanding,and you could let the gentle gradient take the strain, a welcome break to our burning muscles. The only concentration required was to not ski straight into the stream, after the mental and physical exhaustion it would be no surprise to me if I allowed my attention to slip and thus find myself waist high in a refreshingly cool alpine stream.

The route continues down towards the small and sleepy village of Zug. There is little in Zug, blink and you’d miss it, but a small bar with dog walkers and posers is all that you need to have a sit down and a beverage. The perfect opportunity to study the piste map and plan your next adrenaline rush.

If only I had been a little more superstitious.

Had I been one for superstition and signs then I certainly would have paid more attention to the few accidents I  had just trying to get to Bangkok. Who would have thought that it was possible to not see a plane door, let alone walk into it, whilst ajar? And who would have known that it was possible to set off the Passenger Alarm in the toilet (conveniently positioned at the point where your elbow would nudge it whilst reaching for toilet paper) causing the air cabin crew to assemble themselves for a potential toilet-related-emergency? In my shock and fear of having the toilet door dropkicked open by Helga whilst I sat unaware on the toilet having an innocent wee ( I am sure you can understand that the fear is exascerbated as the toilet door is positioned in a way which means the entire rear end of the plane can see straight in when it is open), I returned to my seat only to inadvertently head butt the in flight seat entertainment system.

As I mentioned earlier, I am not one for superstition, it is simply not plausible for a person as uncoordinated as myself, to read into every one of my regular accidents. I believe I can account for all of my misadventures being a result of the relief of having effectively packed my bags ( I say “effectively” but when I arrived into Bangkok with no appropriate clothing I began to think otherwise), woken myself up (with only a little help from a wake up call from Anna) and got to the airport (thanks Anna’s dad) with my passport and money in tow (not the way I returned to London) and checked in, all in good time for a Vanilla Latte and the chance to whizz through the confectionary section in WHSmiths. It is with little surprise that it would all start going Pete Tong in no time.

Having missed a flight last Summer from Italy to London by a mere twenty four hours, I still enjoy the novelty every time I do not miss a flight. It took approximately a month before I could look at my bank balance again and to crack some obligatory self-deprecating jokes about my inability to know the days of the week. I can laugh know at the knowledge that at the exact time that I should have been getting up for a flight to London, I was fast asleep, and that whilst I should have been onboard an ever-so-pleasant Ryanair flight I was meandering through a market with all the time in the world. Only C.C.T.V can truly capture my devastation as I gathered the information in my head that I had completely and utterly missed my flight. Trust me when I say that I tried to kick myself firmly in the derriere on my way over to “Ticket Information”, with the contents of my bowels following closely behind. I do normally try to censor my language, which is not always easy with an Irish mother with a colourful vocabulary and a Swiss father who has taught you all the Germanic swear words and expletives you could ever need.However, as I was told that the price of a new ticket was over four times more than my original return flight I could not contain the torrent of swear words in every language that flew from my mouth at that moment.

To say Michael O’Leary “spanked me with my pants down” would be a mild understatement.

So anyway, back to Qatar Airlines flight QR613, by now I hope you are beginning to grasp how unfortunate I am when it comes to transport and that walking into a plane door is simply one-of-those-things that do not phase me anymore. I once was on a 326 bus to High Barnet and as the doors opened I merely forgot to walk and fell flat on my face onto the floor outside. In my shock of falling out of a bus I thought that the best plan of action would be to stay put until the bus (full of shoppers I should add) had pulled away. Instead remaining motionless on the floor only causes more drama as the bus driver gets off the bus with no less than five passengers to check whether I was alive at all. I tried yelling “Yeaaah I’m fine, just having a nap”, but the bus driver was not convinced, and he was trying to persuade me that I should go to the hospital. Why exactly, I would have needed to go to hospital, I’m not so sure. There is little that can be done for individuals suffering from  chronic embarrassment and terminal inability to operate normally on various modes of transport.

So this is why I cannot afford to read to deeply into the accidents( I only too frequently have) on public transport, otherwise I really would remain in simply one location for my entire life. High Barnet is already overpopulated with the mentally deranged without me adding to its numbers.