Friday

The EasyJet Blog Part Three (My Birthday).

I really, really didn't want to have to go shopping for a bra and knickers on my birthday.

Okay, I'm 62 and birthdays at that age aren't quite the same as when you're six. But I like them and I celebrate them, especially as there was a time a few years back when I wasn't sure whether I'd be getting any more.

We often go away for our birthdays because Lion's is just two days before mine and my mother's is one day before that - and if we're not careful everyone's simply bored with birthdays by the time mine comes along. I used to think that was acceptable but now I realise that my birthday is just as important (or not) as anyone else's.

Apart from the bra and knickers, we urgently needed a mobile phone lead because my phone was out of power and the only way to contact Tim about where and when to meet was by phone. The only way to hear from EasyJet was also by email or phone.

Now, you may be thinking, 'What about her husband's mobile phone?' Excuse me while I fall over laughing. Lion may be a brilliant publisher but he is also a troglodyte. He does actually possess a mobile phone (an old one of mine), but it is more than a decade old, contains no contact numbers apart from mine and it hasn't been topped-up in a year. It's sometimes okay if I'm lost and I call him - if he's remembered to turn it on - but that's about it.

Email was available via the phone or the laptop. Sigh. What about the iPad? Tim's not on Facebook or WhatsApp or Messenger. Can I remember his phone number? Can I hell! You don't nowadays, do you? It's all in your equipment.

So, Harold's fate, tragedy or adventure, was yet unknown. I have to admit that I did worry a little; he was so new and, rather like me, so gullible. But I had to let those feelings go if the day was to be enjoyed. I could only hope that he hadn't met a shady, trafficking suitcase who travelled airplane holds secretly looking for innocents to coerce into lives of degredation and horror. Harold would have been so excited if promised adventure and exotic locations. He would have thought, 'I'll have my own story to tell Colin and the others when I get back!' But would he get back...?

I thought, 'I'll go swimming.' Great idea. I love swimming.

Drat. No costume. There were bikinis at the tourist shop next door to the hotel but nowhere to try them on and anyway, I don't wear a bikini if I can possibly help it for all sorts of reasons that I don't need to go into here. I had another paddle and that was nice.

I couldn't check emails on the hotel's computer (4 a go) because our servers are encrypted and the password's on my laptop! But I could discover that they allow you £25 a day to purchase essentials if your luggage is mislaid.

Bra, knickers, and mobile phone lead for £25 eh? Tricky. Still, at least if Harold was still lost the next day I'd have another £25 for sunglasses, a swimsuit and a present for Ariadne (yes, do please read that sentence with irony).

I asked for help from above ... because as a priest, that's what you do. And as I walked out of the room, I saw Edita, one of the cleaning ladies on her iPhone 5. I asked if she happened to have her lead with her and she did. That was pretty bloody fast! She fetched it, explained in excellent English that it was a cheap one and they only lasted a few weeks, but I was welcome to try it. Excitedly, I went back into the room, plugged my phone in ... and watched the 'charging' sign come up. Jumped up and down with joy and went out to find out where in a tourist area you could buy a bra and knickers.

Now you may be thinking, 'who needs a bra and knickers on holiday?' And yes, many times I've gone bra-less and commando - when I've got a long sun dress to wear! But not when the natural south-moving aspect of the older woman's bust is going to be annoyingly wobbly. And not when there's a party to go to and the only clothes you've now got to wear for it are ones that require you to be fairly well held-together.

We discovered, to our situation-led delight that there was a shopping mall a half-hour's bus ride away where underwear could be found. And, luckily, we went back to our room to check the phone before we left ... because Edita's lead had died and there was no charge. Bugger.

In the end, we actually found a Marks and Spencer's where I could get a bra and knickers I knew would fit. And the shopping mall had an iPhone lead (though not an iPad 2 lead). We ended up having spent more than half our first day's holiday - and twice as much as EasyJet was allowing us - replacing three essential things.

When the phone started charging, I received an anxious text from Tim asking whether we had arrived safely and a perplexed one from our housesitter in England asking me why EasyJet was leaving automated messages on the home telephone about lost luggage.

Had they found Harold? Had they hell! But they were anxious to tell me what an excellent record they have with baggage. When I checked emails on my phone, they told me again how very good they were. Well that's nice then.

We had a lovely supper (in bra and knickers - though not just bra and knickers and that was only me...) of kleftiko at a local restaurant, as pictured. And I had a good birthday because I was bloody well determined to have a good birthday. And maybe, just maybe, I'd get some news tomorrow. That was kind of important because I was going to be needing my vitamins or I'd be starting to be in pain.

Yes, I can meditate my way through the pain (it is a leftover from shingles) and I can alleviate and even stop it for a while. But forgive me if that's not exactly what I want to be spending my time doing on holiday...


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