The final countdown

Before I start this post, I'd just like to postulate about the behaviour of cats whenever a new box appears in their home. They simply HAVE to sit in any new box, preferably curl up in it and fall asleep - no matter how small it is.

Remember this and this? Well, Sonny the ginger cat won't let us get rid of that box and he still sleeps in it for hours on end every day. Weirdo.

Where was this going? Fuck knows. Oh yeah, and when you spend £30 on a cat bed for them, do they sleep in it? Do they buggery. Ungrateful swines.


Countdown
So now is the time when I start to get nervous... VERY nervous. I hate travelling you see, but in eight days' time, I'll be somewhere over the Atlantic/Arctic cruising at a few thousand feet while I'm whisked away to Canada in a tin can. Either that, or I'll be in lots of squishy bits, mixed in with the squishy bits of other passengers' body parts after the plane has crashed/blown up.

There's always the potential for a crash within the Arctic Circle where I might get eaten by a polar bear. Or Bjork.

I can think of no greater honour than being eaten (preferable post mortem) by a magnificent polar bear. Rrrraaarrrrr!!!!!!!! Well maybe being eaten by a tiger would top it, but only just, and only if I was dead first.

So I hate travelling. I hate the uncertainty of it. It get to this stage before setting off and start to wonder whether it's worth cutting my losses and just not going. Dont' get me wrong, I am VERY excited about being in Canada, meeting April the donkey lover and also Connie and Jenn. It's just the uncertainty of getting there, in other words - the flight.

I've come to realise that, after years of not doing it, I don't really like flying afterall. It is unnatural and it is boring. "It's the take off and landing that are worst". No, it's the crashing that's the worst and you can do that at any point in a flight. Fucking hell, in the Manchester air disaster of 1986, nearly 60 people died and they hadn't even got going on the tarmac! In all honesty, if a plane is going to crash, I'd rather it be nearer the runway than a few thousand feet in the air. At least there may be some recognisable bits of me remaining to shove in a coffin for my fantastic Dynasty funeral.

I don't think I'll be the victim of terrorism. At least I hope I'm not, I don't think the insurance covers it. But if the plane is hijacked (a Zoom airlines holiday jet from Manchester to Vancouver????) I shall do my best to disarm the hijacking scum with my deadly farts, poo breath and maybe even a toxic shock tampon.

You see, this is where the airlines are missing a trick. They should allow passengers to arm themselves. If this was the case, any potential hijackers would know that they'd have to fight a gun-toting, knife-wielding angry mob before they got through to the cockpit. Perhaps guns wouldn't be such a grand idea, but baseball bats and knives would be OK.

Of course, one of the worst accidents I heard about was that Greek plane that went down last summer. The cabin lost pressure and the passengers suffocated and froze to death as the temperature dropped to -70°C and all the oxygen got sucked out. In that situation, do you think the cabin crew would have been annoyed at being asked fro extra blankets?

Anyway, in preparation for my trip, I really must think about getting prepared for it. I still have no idea what I'm taking with me. All I know is that I want to travel light so I can pick up some bearskins and jars of pickles while I'm over there.