Apprehension

I’m off to the airport soon.
I’m shitting myself.
I keep trying to think about the weekend ahead, and how good it will be, and how safe flying is, but my thoughts keep getting interrupted by visions of the Yorkshire countryside racing up towards me at breakneck speed as my plane seat drops from the sky.
I’ve got some books and magazines to read, and I’m keeping my mind occupied at the moment, but every so often I feel a cold chill go up my back, beads of sweat appear on my forehead and my anal sphincter starts reacting like a leaky washer on a tap.
What am I doing? We’re only a few generations away from being simple hunter/gatherers and riding horses and working the land, and now I’m about to be lifted 30,000 feet in the air and propelled unnaturally along at 300 miles an hour on board a man-made object that weighs several hundred tons. I wonder if the plane seats have airbags?
Sophie has booked us a meal at a Chinese restaurant tonight. I’m trying to concentrate on that. My nerves have been so bad this week I must have lost a stone in weight since Tuesday, so it’ll be good to have a decent meal.
Man, oh man, why didn’t I learn to drive ages ago? I could have been enjoying a crippling 13-hour trip in a knackered old Vauxhall Astra today instead of dragging myself off to the Deathtrap Airport of Doom.. Or why didn’t I just tell Sophie to shove her invitation up her pooper and stay in Norfolk and work all weekend? Shelf-filling may not be a great way to spend Easter, but at least you can’t plummet to your death in the freezer aisle.
Pray for me…..

RC 9-4-09
0924 BST