Of Lapland, Flu and Funerals
It all started Friday night when Anton had a terrible cold. We had Tacos for tea and all seemed well, even though we went to bed early.
At about 3am my legs started aching and I had to go spend a long time in the bathroom. When I came out I felt extremely weak but put it down to my innards and went back to bed. Became further convinced the food was to blame when Ant went to throw up at around 7am. By this point I was drenched in sweat and shaking like a loon, so I rang Mum and asked her to get Dad to fetch me as soon as possible.
After being fetched (at about 10 - by which time Anton had dissolved into a pool of mucus) I dragged my sorry arse into bed and stayed there, hallucinating, shaking and sobbing for the rest of the day. Dad ran me a bath in the evening, and I tried to convince myself that I would be fine for Lapland on the Sunday.
Sunday morning, at about 3:30 in the morning found me crawling out of bed, and then running to the toilet to be sick.
Mum was pretty set that I shouldn't go, (and isn't hindsight a wonderful thing?) but I bundled up, and got into the car anyway. Got to the airport and met up with Jeremy, Alison and my cousins Jess, Sam and Charlie, who were all very chirpy and excited. My brain was nearly dissolved by that point, so I wasn't particularly attentive.
The plane journey there wasn't too bad, though all I ate was a bite of bread from the meal - my brother had all the rest.
Lapland itself is a really wonderful place - when we landed there were snow covered trees lining the runway, and hip-deep snow over the ground. The airport at Kittilla is about the size of the average carpark and is a bit primitive which didn't help much.
After checking off the plane, we were hearded into Canterbury Travel's big hanger where we were supplied with snowsuits and boots. I was starting to feel very ill by this point. Then it transpired that my grandmother had told us we were on a different tour than the one we were actually on, and we weren't being picked up by reindeer-pulled sleigh, but in fact by coach.
So it was a 20 minute ride to Lapland from Kittilla, and once we got there it was genuinely amazing! Knee-deep snow, log cabins, open fires to warm oneself. The boys went Toboganning, and then we decided to go and see Santa before there was a queue.
To get to Santa we went on a Skidoo-drawn sleigh through the woods, which was lovely. When we got to the location, we waited in a half-tent with a log fire and an elf until Santa was ready. The guy they had playing him was very good - he was Finnish, but spoke really good English and was very friendly. Charlie cried for the whole experience, which disappointed Jeremy and Alison, but Sam was amazed and horrified at the same time. Santa was a very good actor, saying how nice it was to see all of us adults "again", which made Sam's jaw hit the floor! The gifts Sam and Charlie got were very good quality too - a Noah's Ark and some modern-style boys dolls with computers and things.
After that, everyone except me was hungry to we went to the cafe where it was all-you-can-eat. Everyone was stuffing themselves full of soup, potatoes, pasta and bread (except my brother Tom who just had a plate of pancakes and jam) while I died slowly over some Finnish tea. I decided that it would be better for everyone if I stayed in the cafe while they did the Husky rides and Reindeer and everything else fun and amazing. Alison felt so sorry for me she nearly cried.
I nearly fell asleep in the cafe before they came to fetch me at the end of the day, and then trudged back to the coach, and back on the plane to go home.
Oh god, the plane home. The turbulance! The fucking NOISE! The entertainment system had ballsed up so they were playing the film (The Grinch - the shitty live-action version) over the PA system at about fifty decibels, the chair in front was about six inches away from my face, and they were serving Christmas Dinner which stank to high heaven. All this made resulted in me having to go and vomit. The toilets were full so I had to go in a sick bag until my brother raised his voice and forced the inconsiderate bastards in the queue to let me go into the cubicle (I could have got really angry about this, but I think it just shows how people really don't give a shit about anyone but themselves). Then I staggered back into my seat and went to sleep until we landed.
Landed, and Mum and Dad took one look at me and bundled me into the car... we dropped Tom off at uni and drove home for about midnight. I collapsed into bed after asking Mum to ring Infant School for me and tell them I wouldn't be in on Monday.
Monday morning found me with my head down the toilet bowl throwing up bile and mucus. I managed to make it downstairs to answer the postman who had hundreds of parcels for the house, and then crawled back to bed to watch Futurama dvds. I was drinking about ten litres a minute by now, and was sick again - pure water and bile. The day passed rather quickly - I don't remember if I slept or anything. Mum came home and wouldn't leave me alone, and then forced me to go downstairs, which was horrible. It was spaghetti for tea and I managed about ten strands before going back upstairs to bed. I had half a tin of soup later on, and watch Ocean's 11 before going to sleep.
Today began in much the same way, with me swigging water by the troughload and Mum bursting into the room to bother me. Today was Nanna's funeral and as the day rolled on it became more and more evident that I wouldn't be going. Two o'clock rolled around and I wasn't fit so they went without me. I am still upset about this. Right now I am sat in the living room eating crisps feeling miserable. I think it will be Thursday before I'm well again.
At about 3am my legs started aching and I had to go spend a long time in the bathroom. When I came out I felt extremely weak but put it down to my innards and went back to bed. Became further convinced the food was to blame when Ant went to throw up at around 7am. By this point I was drenched in sweat and shaking like a loon, so I rang Mum and asked her to get Dad to fetch me as soon as possible.
After being fetched (at about 10 - by which time Anton had dissolved into a pool of mucus) I dragged my sorry arse into bed and stayed there, hallucinating, shaking and sobbing for the rest of the day. Dad ran me a bath in the evening, and I tried to convince myself that I would be fine for Lapland on the Sunday.
Sunday morning, at about 3:30 in the morning found me crawling out of bed, and then running to the toilet to be sick.
Mum was pretty set that I shouldn't go, (and isn't hindsight a wonderful thing?) but I bundled up, and got into the car anyway. Got to the airport and met up with Jeremy, Alison and my cousins Jess, Sam and Charlie, who were all very chirpy and excited. My brain was nearly dissolved by that point, so I wasn't particularly attentive.
The plane journey there wasn't too bad, though all I ate was a bite of bread from the meal - my brother had all the rest.
Lapland itself is a really wonderful place - when we landed there were snow covered trees lining the runway, and hip-deep snow over the ground. The airport at Kittilla is about the size of the average carpark and is a bit primitive which didn't help much.
After checking off the plane, we were hearded into Canterbury Travel's big hanger where we were supplied with snowsuits and boots. I was starting to feel very ill by this point. Then it transpired that my grandmother had told us we were on a different tour than the one we were actually on, and we weren't being picked up by reindeer-pulled sleigh, but in fact by coach.
So it was a 20 minute ride to Lapland from Kittilla, and once we got there it was genuinely amazing! Knee-deep snow, log cabins, open fires to warm oneself. The boys went Toboganning, and then we decided to go and see Santa before there was a queue.
To get to Santa we went on a Skidoo-drawn sleigh through the woods, which was lovely. When we got to the location, we waited in a half-tent with a log fire and an elf until Santa was ready. The guy they had playing him was very good - he was Finnish, but spoke really good English and was very friendly. Charlie cried for the whole experience, which disappointed Jeremy and Alison, but Sam was amazed and horrified at the same time. Santa was a very good actor, saying how nice it was to see all of us adults "again", which made Sam's jaw hit the floor! The gifts Sam and Charlie got were very good quality too - a Noah's Ark and some modern-style boys dolls with computers and things.
After that, everyone except me was hungry to we went to the cafe where it was all-you-can-eat. Everyone was stuffing themselves full of soup, potatoes, pasta and bread (except my brother Tom who just had a plate of pancakes and jam) while I died slowly over some Finnish tea. I decided that it would be better for everyone if I stayed in the cafe while they did the Husky rides and Reindeer and everything else fun and amazing. Alison felt so sorry for me she nearly cried.
I nearly fell asleep in the cafe before they came to fetch me at the end of the day, and then trudged back to the coach, and back on the plane to go home.
Oh god, the plane home. The turbulance! The fucking NOISE! The entertainment system had ballsed up so they were playing the film (The Grinch - the shitty live-action version) over the PA system at about fifty decibels, the chair in front was about six inches away from my face, and they were serving Christmas Dinner which stank to high heaven. All this made resulted in me having to go and vomit. The toilets were full so I had to go in a sick bag until my brother raised his voice and forced the inconsiderate bastards in the queue to let me go into the cubicle (I could have got really angry about this, but I think it just shows how people really don't give a shit about anyone but themselves). Then I staggered back into my seat and went to sleep until we landed.
Landed, and Mum and Dad took one look at me and bundled me into the car... we dropped Tom off at uni and drove home for about midnight. I collapsed into bed after asking Mum to ring Infant School for me and tell them I wouldn't be in on Monday.
Monday morning found me with my head down the toilet bowl throwing up bile and mucus. I managed to make it downstairs to answer the postman who had hundreds of parcels for the house, and then crawled back to bed to watch Futurama dvds. I was drinking about ten litres a minute by now, and was sick again - pure water and bile. The day passed rather quickly - I don't remember if I slept or anything. Mum came home and wouldn't leave me alone, and then forced me to go downstairs, which was horrible. It was spaghetti for tea and I managed about ten strands before going back upstairs to bed. I had half a tin of soup later on, and watch Ocean's 11 before going to sleep.
Today began in much the same way, with me swigging water by the troughload and Mum bursting into the room to bother me. Today was Nanna's funeral and as the day rolled on it became more and more evident that I wouldn't be going. Two o'clock rolled around and I wasn't fit so they went without me. I am still upset about this. Right now I am sat in the living room eating crisps feeling miserable. I think it will be Thursday before I'm well again.