No fool on the plane in Spain.   Leave a comment

I am now officially back from Spain, but it might take a while for what passes for normal service to resume.

Yesterday was hilarious. I woke up after precious little sleep feeling particularly awful and estranged from myself. This was because of all the holiday drink, and also because I’d decided to orally ingest a big chunk of vacation resin the previous night because I didn’t want to have to throw it away or take it through customs (again). I was able to just about cope with being heavily monkeyed the night before, even in the restaurant, but when I awoke, if that’s what you could call it, I didn’t feel particularly, uh…together. In addition we were in a stressed-out hurry, and Syd was pretty fucking livid, and there was a lot of running around to do involving chucking out rancid meat and cheese, pulling plastic bags full of shit lager out of swimming pools, the finding of pants and so on, and basically an innumerable sequence of tasks that I couldn’t even begin to get my brain around without a cup of tea, which we didn’t have. I was also pretty paranoid about the flight, and the fact that in order to get on the plane we had to negotiate some laughably dangerous mountain roads that had been freaking the shit out of us the whole week anyway. Somehow all these various Achilles’ heels in my normally invincible emotional armour suddenly felt the need to make them selves known to the forces of evil and a full-on, Bobby J style panic attack started to race around my body and brain like a Border Collie chasing its own tail. This has never happened to me before, or at least never when I’ve been straight. In fact I wasn’t straight. I felt exactly like I would have done if I had been straight and then done a couple of hot knives or something, first thing in the morning. I was really caned, and I was freaking right out like the guitarist in Blur. Getting on a plane seemed like a sick joke. Getting in a car seemed like a sick joke. Trying to pretend to be vaguely psychologically together seemed like the hardest thing of all. I couldn’t look Syd in the eye because I didn’t want to pass on The Fear. I had to try really fucking hard to think of a way to tell Nathan and Sam that I was having a spot of bother with the old adrenal gland, and that the only way I could think of to try and vaguely sort myself out would be to start boshing lagers ASAP, even if it was 8AM. The last straw was when I had to get into the car and pack several rubbish bags filled with the aforementioned rancid meats and cheeses, plus unmentionable sanitary stuff and fag ash around my trembling body. It was like a sauce for my fear, and |I almost broke. I shut the car door and immediately informed Nathan and Sam, the real people, the responsible, dependable, adult human beings that by the fucking grace of Christ I was travelling with that I would be sitting in the back drinking pissy Portuguese beer all the way to Granada while they drove and map-read etc. I also had a ten-strength diazepam from Dr. Sparkle, but I think it was the beer that did the trick. By rights I should have been mullered, but all I felt was ABSENCE OF THE HORROR. I even had to top myself up with sneaky brandies on the plane to keep the edge of it. Syd slept through the entire descent and landing as his dad quivered like a maltreated dog in the seat next to him. You’d have thought I’d be getting a bit old for all this shit wouldn’t you? No fool like an old fool.

Posted May 20, 2005 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

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