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Wednesday
Aug132014

(mis)adventures in travel

Menu on plane: Pudding* (Choice of passionfruit cheesecake or cheese and crackers)

Me: Ooh, how to choose between pudding and cheesecake? Hmm... (Stress out for a good minute, trying to determine what would make my stomach happy.)

Menu on plane: *Pudding is what the British call dessert.

--

Shop-that-shall-remain-nameless has great stuff from window. Lots of options, some well-cut coats, a skirt that catches my eye. Looks like a good place to browse! I enter...

(Within five seconds...)

Me: Why does everyone here walk with a stoop and have white hair?

Me: slinks out

--

Husband: ...and an order of the Scottish egg.

Server: Pardon?

Me: (too loudly) SCOTCH egg!

Server thinks I am yelling at her and not my husband, who, clearly, is the target of my exasperation.

Server (not so nice now): Right then.

--

Hobbling out of our very trendy hotel.

Me: Excuse me, do you by any chance have a Band-Aid?

Receptionist: Sorry?

Me: makes ineffectual slapping motions on hand (when did this become charades-speak for Band-Aid?) and contemplates singing the jingle Um...

Husband: For cuts? Sticky thing for cuts?

Receptionist: Oh! A bpblaster!

Me: B-p-laster? (not sure if she meant blaster or plaster so trying to say b and p at the same time in a knowledgeable manner even as I think this is not a smart name for a Band-Aid)

Once we are out of earshot...

Husband: Band-Aid is a brand name, honey.

No duh!

Me: I know. So what do they call them at Walgreens? Hyaluronic something, I think. Hydraluronic... Hyalonic... Blaster/plaster sounds dumb.

(With my fabulous sense of hearing, it was probably neither. But I refuse to cheat and Google it. I will instead learn it from another British human being.)

--

It goes from sprinkling to torrential downpour in less than a minute--but we will not be deterred! We will make it on the train to the Tower of London!

This one isn't funny, just a moral lesson, really. When your husband says he does not need you to pack him an umbrella, pack him one. Otherwise he will insist on "sharing" (ie he magically gets 2/3 of it while you are stuck with a measly 1/5. And yes, I know the math doesn't add up, but that is really how it feels).

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