Second Helpings

That was the Weekend that was

The stage show of Grease was enjoyable.

Well, apart from the three flights of almost horizontal stairs to our seats, the queue for the three loos and the arctic air conditioning. But you know me; never one to complain.

Joy and I have taken several of these weekend coach trip tours to shows in London, mainly because they're fairly cheap and you don't have to think about transport or booking tickets and hotels. I've never liked the amount of time spent travelling or hanging about as I don't 'wait good', but I've tolerated it in the past.

However, this one took the biscuit and the way I feel at the moment I won't be doing it again. After rising in the dark at a time I haven't seen in years, it took approximately five hours to reach central London; a journey which takes two hours by car and even less by train. But you know me; never one to complain, so off we went to enjoy the show.

Afterwards, it took the coach an hour to reach the allocated hotel. I realise to keep costs down hotels in the heart of the city are not an option, but being stuck out in the middle of nowhere hardly makes for an interesting evening. The hotel was dead apart from a private wedding reception. Escapee children from the party, racing around the reception area and shrieking over lost balloons was not my idea of entertainment.

We suffered an almost inedible meal, then sat in the bar on seats about six inches from the ground, which did nothing for the already delicate digestive system. After we'd finished a small glass of wine which cost more than two bottles from the supermarket, we decided we'd be more comfortable in our hotel room where we could drink the two bottles of wine we'd bought from the supermarket.

At least the room was spacious and comfortable and we settled down to watch television with our plastic toothpaste tumblers of vino. We sure know how to live it up and walk on the wild side. It was when Joy paid a visit to the loo we discovered that after a few minutes of leavng the little room the cistern made a loud noise, very reminiscent of someone suffering from extreme gastric wind problems. That's when the giggles started and continued all night and in the middle of it, when the excess vino consumed decided it needed relieving. You know what they say about small things.

Before settling down for the night I realised I'd forgotten to pack my hair straighteners; a tragedy of immense proportions for someone with a mud-coloured mane like mine. Joy doesn't use them, so there was nothing for it but to go down to breakfast the next morning at another unearthly hour, looking like something the cat dragged in. The food was equally as disgusting as the dinner the previous evening and the cup of tea obviously the dishwater they'd washed last night's pots in.

Off we set on the hour's drive to the city again. When we'd packed a few belongings for this trip, the weather had been extremely mild, so summer sandals and a lighweight jacket seemed enough. It was at ten in the morning around Covent Garden when winter decided to show its face, leaving us with blue toes and shivering as we watched the street performers. Buying new shoes and jackets wasn't an option either as none of the shops open until after midday on Sundays.

We left London at half past two in the afternoon. At five, we waited an hour at a service station for feeder coaches to arrive to take people home to their various destinations. Ours was an antiquated model, driven by someone who was obviously training for racing over rough terrain strewn with obstacles. Many stops later, after dropping off pale-faced, dizzy passengers, Joy decided she didn't feel too well. She spent the rest of the journey with her head in a plastic bag and I had to restrain myself from scratching the burning eczema, which was screaming for the cream safely locked away in my bag in the coach luggage compartment.

We finally ended our journey six and a half hours later. After dropping Joy off at her house, I consoled myself with the thought of a hot bath, an early night and a lie in this morning. Little did I know that during my absence, hubby bless him, had decided to paint the woodwork in the bathroom and start knocking off the tiles in the shower, rendering both rooms virtually unusable. So instead, I consoled myself with something else in a bottle which ensured my head was rather sore when the phone blasted me from my coma this morning.

But thereby hangs another tale; which may or may not reach these pages depending on the outcome. I wonder sometimes, if there's such a thing as destiny, why a little peace and quiet can't be included in mine. But you know me; never one to complain.