Travelling with a Dead Woman's Suitcase pt. 2 - Heathrow bound

It's occurred to me that 'Travelling with a Dead Woman's Suitcase' isn't the most pleasant of titles for a travelog but well, that's what happened. My Mother, helpful as ever, said she had a decent spare suitcase I could have and it was great. It wasn't until we'd left that she happened to casually mention the case had belonged to her neighbour's mother.

"Oh, doesn't she want it back?" I asked innocently

"No, she's dead"

"I'VE GOT MY STUFF IN A DEAD WOMAN'S SUITCASE?"

"Oh calm down - it's not like she died IN the case or anything!"

"Yeah, but......well, it's weird. A dead woman went places with her stuff in that case and now some stranger has it. Some random neighbour's daughter who she never even met or anything. It's awful."

"I don't think she ever used it actually"

"Oh great. Some woman, full of hope and joy, bought a suitcase with holidays on her mind and what, she just snuffed it? Oh God, that's even worse. I've stolen the happiness that woman was going to have with that case. Why don't I just poke through her stuff and find her holiday novel and sunglasses. Then I can fully flick 2 fingers up at her. Great, the case is going to be haunted by a woman scorned." (I wept ridiculously)

[SEE HOW I CAN NEVER BE APPEASED ONCE I'VE STARTED?]

Well, in actual fact the case was just a case. It was a shit case as it would never stand up but I suspect its original owner was a bit wobbly on her wheels too. Perhaps that was the legacy - I had a case that knocked everyone else's over whenever they were stacked up. Like a parent at a school Nativity, I would watch from afar (the coach window) as all the cases were taken out and lined up only for mine to forget its words and screw the whole thing up for everyone else.

What the hell AM I talking about? Shut up Sket.

Anyhoo, today. As I mentioned yesterday I was due back at work and it was clear that one person wanted to show that they were angry and were choosing to pointedly ignore me. It makes me laugh to think they thought I'd care, for, let's face it, the fewer people who talk to me, the less I have to talk back to anyone, and in my book that's a result! Yay to the colleague who dropped me in it whilst I was away!

Right, here's the next bit of my holiday journal. It's not very interesting but the good stuff will come up soon enough:

SATURDAY 18TH SEPTEMBER 2010: Nightmare morning. My mother was stressed 'cause her cat Jasper shit and vomited all over the house overnight. Then a number of people turned up at the house to see me before we left AND other people kept calling to wish me a nice holiday/happy forthcoming birthday. My Mom was obsessed she wanted the house to be immaculate before she left and all the visitors were a stressful intrusion for her.

Anyhoo, we were ready in time for the pick up by the tour company (it was a door to door service) and had to go and pick up another couple in the Shirley area of Birmingham. My Mother was at the point of explosion as we drove through Sparkbrook which was an area she knew really well as a youngster and was now like another country (if you get my drift). As she's become older my Mother has become increasingly intolerant towards pretty much everyone. We were taken to The Park Hotel at Heathrow airport ready for tomorrow's departure. The hotel is large but the room quite basic. I felt we got bleedin' ripped off with our dinner at their 'Bravo Bravo' restaurant. Despite allegedly having 20% off, we had a bill of £50 for one roast dinner, a tiny salad and 2 non-alcoholic cocktails. Robbing bastards. I had the salad and as I have shit digestion couldn't eat that much and so felt really bad. We can get a roast dinner for less than 4 quid around here! Back in the room I had a lovely long soak in the bath and we watched CSI shows all night before going to sleep. Unfortunately my Mother had a bit of a panic attack 'cause the windows wouldn't open and she wanted air. I'll admit to being a tad grumpy seeing her scratching at the window. Note to self - must be more tolerant and understanding.