We have just returned from the Edinburgh Fringe.   We survived.   Not the festival, I had every faith we would return tired but relatively unscathed.  It was everything I thought it would be and more – crazy crowded, cosmopolitan, chaotic and great fun.  We had a wonderful few days with some of my family and did everything on the virtual list we had in our heads.  And we survived.

I am talking about the flights.   I would like to say that the reason that we have only flown twice in the last 15 years is for ecological reasons, but it would be untrue, although that is an added bonus.  It is because I have a mortal fear of flying.  More accurately, not flying.

For me, the prelude and actual event goes something like this:

a)  Sleepless nights for a week before, along with daymare re-enactments,

b) Go to the toilet at least 6 times an hour at the airport,

c)  Sit rigid with eyes closed during take-off, silently weeping,

d)  Relax slightly (only slightly) until we begin to descend,

e)  Sit rigid with eyes closed, make a little yelp as we touch the ground, brake furiously.

f)  Become euphoric that I have survived.

Repeat on return trip.

I know the statistics, I know it isn’t logical, but that is the way it is.

On the homeward journey we arrived safe and sound at Exeter airport, and naturally I was euphoric.  We drove home.  The car was acting a little peculiar for the last 5 or 6 miles and we resolved to take it to the garage soon.  Then we stopped off at the local supermarket, approximately half a mile from our house, to get some essentials (bread and beer).  Fully stocked up, and pleased to eventually nearing home,  I drove off to exit the car park.   Reaching a corner I put my foot on the brake, which rather bizarrely kept going, as did the car.  Luckily we were still in the car park, so glided to a halt and waited for the nice man from Green Flag to tell us that the brake on the left hand side had seized up completely (I glazed over when he began with the technicalities).  He took our car away to be fixed and us and all our bags to our front door.

This could have happened on the M5 motorway.  Or the busy Link Road.  Or on the very steep hill that we were just about to drive down.   Therefore today I am feeling very lucky, and I have thanked my guardian angel, he was certainly looking over us.   We survived.

26 thoughts on “Survived

  1. You know, statistically, and all that…….. In future, tell E to stand by the front door as you go to your car to leave for whatever country estate you’ll be heading for. Will save time if the door is open to facilitate all those loo visits. Glad you’re OK. xx

    Liked by 1 person

      1. The brake might just need greasing. I had a tricky brake but sadly the garages I took it to never seemed to pick up on the problem.

        Anyway, I am glad you are safe.


  2. There you are then, driving is much more dangerous than flying. For real flying terror, you should have tried flying with the Pianist in his two seater which I did regularly. The worst was when we had to land in a field in a thunder storm. Glad you had a good time in Edinburgh.


  3. By now I expect you will have heard from the garage…I hope the cost isn’t too great. Flight nerves are very hard to deal with. I sympathise.


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