On Friday morning I made a small, but significant discovery. In 'starting again' I had to equip a house from nothing, and its the little things I keep forgetting. Beds, bookcases, pots and pans; no problem. Things like a bottle opener? Totally forgotten until I needed one (using the kitchen worksurface as a substitute works admirably.)
On Friday I realised that I don't have an umbrella. Its an unfortunate realisation to make when the rain is tipping out of the sky and its a mile walk to the train station.
In truth, I've owned many umbrellas in my years on the planet. Sadly, all have been donated to strangers out of altruism (or, if I'm entirely honest, drunken forgetfullness in bars) Its now on my list of Things To Buy.
I stood, dripping, on the deserted station and watched Network Rail's finest pull into the platform. The driver peered out of his window, a single wiper blade jerking arthritically accross the scratched glass. I waved cheerily, sending a sluice of water down my suit from where it had collected in the folds of the fabric. He scowled and pressed what I assumed was the button to open the doors and I was away.
Yes, I was wearing a suit. Its compulsory for these things. I'd bought it the previous weekend (having destroyed all my 'previous life' clothes earlier in the year.) I only wear a suit and tie on these occasions, funerals or weddings. The exception will be the wedding of The Ex in February to which I have an invitation; what I'll wear to that is still undecided.
This year I was remarkably well behaved and survived the day more or less intact. I don't even have to throw away my shirt (unlike last year, when I attempted an accidental crowd-dive during the group photograph and almost took out a 300 year old wall along with portraits of fearsome looking women (or men in drag; we are undecided on that.)
And yes, I managed to catch the plane to Barcelona. Check back later for more on that (which may feature an interesting scatalogical fact about christmas in Barcelona...)
