It seemed such a good idea. My PPL was burning a hole in my pocket and I was desperate for chances to use it. My boyfriend's mother was becoming wheelchair bound and her ability to travel was becoming limited: not because of the flights but because of all the hassle and queuing around them. So I came up with a plan: take Anne and her wheelchair for a trip around the Channel Islands. Cliff and I could travel London the night before and then meet her at Elstree in the morning for the hop across the channel. It'd be a blast.
I knew I was in trouble when the British Airways staff who checked me in for the flight to Heathrow marked my bag as "heavy". I compounded this by deciding to leave the case at Elstree Airfield that night, which led to my waking up in a roadside hotel with nothing but my flight bag: no shampoo, no hairbrush, no toothbrush, nothing. Just me and Pooleys and a map.
I checked my watch. It was still very early, despite the sunlight washing in under the curtains. I looked around the hotel room in the dim hope of finding some distraction to pass the hours until it was time to go and meet Cliff and Anne for breakfast.
I was in luck. Tucked beneath the Gideon's bible, some one had left--or perhaps hotels are providing these too, now--a copy of a book called Novel Deviations 3. I read it cover to cover and laughed so hard I actually peed myself a little. That's when I remembered: my Protective Panty Liner was still in my pocket.
Opening: Sylvia.....Continuation: ril