Here I stand in Changi Airport, Singapore typing to all y'all out there in Innernetsland. How cool is that ?!?!?
Of course I say stand but in reality I am a withered and beaten wreck of the woman who lived through the massive fire alert evacuation fiasco of Heathrow T3 December 2008. I am a diminshed version of the mother who freed the increasingly frantic 10 y.o. from the confines of the soft play areoplane in the boarding lounge. And yes, I am a lesser person than the one who nearly got thrown out at 30,000 feet for mentioning to a steward my concerns about the people in front of me using nail polish!!
You see when we arrived here for our NINE hour playtime at Changi I found the OSIM (I think) shop filled with gadgets and equipment to promote rest, relaxation and rejuvenation of the body and the soul. And with weirdly swollen calves and feet I was all for anything that would allow me to put my shoes back on. Si I slipped said feet and calves into his weirdy boot machine and a gentle pulsing began on my soles. Mmmmmmmmm.
Not so mmmmmm when it was swiftly joined by a squishing action from my calves downto my toes. The bloody thing contracted and was, I feel sure, trying to surreptiously bind my toes and turn me all Ancient Chinese-y. this torture went on for 15 minutes and was exacerbated by the headgear he forced on me.
So while my head was being pleasantly, if a little robotically, massaged and words of relaxation and calmness being drip-fed into my brain I was having the lower half of my legs squeezed and manipulated with such ferocity that even now three hours later I still bear teh marks!
And this is only 24 hours after leaving home - who knows what the next month will bring!