The Big Move - Part 1

So I am finally in the UK, after a very stressful last few weeks. The day we left was filled with shouting, arguing and sitting on my suitcase to in an effort to try to squeeze in the last few precious items. For those of you who know me, you will know that packing my life possessions into one small suitcase, is not an easy feat. I had everything in my suitcase, including a baby to smuggle drugs in :)

We finally arrived at the check-in counter, 13kg overweight. Tears and promises that we were in fact immigrating, did not convince the check-in man to let us off paying a penalty for the extra kilograms. He directed us to another counter to pay the fee. Stupidly, he gave us no receipt of any kind and we decided to skip paying large sums of money and instead hopped off to the duty free section. RETARD!

Lots of tears and promises to stay in touch were made, as I madly pulled my arms around my family, trying to hold the tears back. I made my way to the plane, packed like a Sherpa from Nepal, with not 1, not 2, but 3 hand luggage items. One was my beloved laptop, which didn’t count as a bag, as it was a necessity, although I had crammed every available nook and cranny with books and illegally copied DVDs. The next was my handbag, and what female do you know that doesn’t carry a handbag around ALL the time? It is also not a bag, but an appendage of my body. And the third was in fact my hand luggage bag, which contained everything that couldn’t be squeezed into aforementioned suitcase.

I eventually flopped down into my seat, cursing myself for wearing knee-high boots, (which I had strategically chosen, as they consumed the most space) 3 layers of tops and a woolen coat. As I surveyed the space that I was to spend the next 11 hours in, I thanked my parents for their short stature. Coming in at a dwarf-ish height of 1.53m, this was one of those rare occasions, where I could revel in the fact that I was often referred to as “mini me”.

I settled down to watch back-to-back episodes of “Friends”, “House” and “Arrested Development”. While I was happily sipping on a glass (plastic cup) of red wine, whilst eating my singularly portioned dinner, the man in front of me decided to slam his seat back and into my cup of wine. I ended up with my crotch stained red, not a great colour/position for a female. I thanked my lucky stars for my inability to pack everything in my suitcase, as I had a spare pair of jeans in my bag. After awkwardly changing in the too-small-toilet-that-stank-of –urine, I ambled back to my seat and continued my TV marathon of insomnia.


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