I gave Ludwig a roastie.
OK rewind, rewind. Everything was going just fine.
A last day in Rhodes, followed by a final day in Athens. Not a bad weekend, as far as weekends go.
It was spent mainly using as much of the final threads of Hangover Humour we could muster to pull us through the losers we were about to feel on coming home.
Home is boring and done. Home isn’t Europe. Sadly.
In Athens, because I just can’t resist European clothes, I went and cured myself through intensive jean pant and feminine dress shopping.
As well as a last platter and a few more Mythos beers.
They weren’t strong enough. I’m not sure how many people who read this blog have flown Olympic Airlines. If you have been a passenger, you’d then agree that it should be labelled as a high-risk flying Greyhound bus.
Its economy class at a level so basic, travelling across Africa in a Chevy Spark may just be more comfortable.
All the basic necessities like headphones, movies, blankets and a stable air con don’t really exist. And the seats are all but up your nose. The Joburg flight departs at 2:00am.
Anyway, more horrifying is that I developed a sudden and crazily bad bout of elephantitis.
Cankles are one thing. This is a cankle: (Actually this may be a thcankle, whereby the thigh and foot are almost completely parallel to each other the entire way down.)
However, I get water retention when I fly long journeys. A bit of seriously attractive puffing to the anterior of my ankle. It’s not completely terrifying to look at though, and it disappears after a few hours.
However. Olympic Airlines, you might find, helped to transform my feet into hovercrafts overnight: You like that?
It was like golf balls had been implanted in my fucking feet, and my toes were little stumps that almost disappeared. I hope it’s not permanent. There are few things less acceptable than cankles.
And one is Olympic Airlines.
Because I got 5 minutes of drooly sleep, and was in a water-retained cankly delirium, I went and FUCKING sideswiped my car on a pillar.
Got to my car parked at work, loaded in my suitcase and neglected to observe the luminescently-painted pillar on my side.
He’s not dented, but he sure looks like shite.
Lumo blue paint, which looks strikingly Not Cool now scraped down the side of Ludwig.
Amazingly, I didn’t even react. I was that tired. I got out, pushed the mirror back into place, stroked him and said sorry, then drove home.
But now on the dawning, I am helluva pissed at myself. God I’m angry at Peas. Ludwig has a giant blue door roastie. 3RM told me I can possibly get the paint off with Brasso.
I’m willing to give it a bash.