One in the morning came quickly enough, and thankfully when we took a roll call, both of us were on our feet albeit one a little less steady than usual.
We snatched a glimpse of Dubai by night, courtesy of our thirtieth floor vantage point and with great thanks uneventfully make our way from hotel to departure lounge, where by about three in the morning or ten minutes before boarding our flight, things deviated slightly from ideal.
I have no idea why it is in this last minute timeframe that nature often seems fit to call, but call it did and while one of us sat nervously guarding our belongings, the other disappeared to allow the particular body parts which to date had played no role in his lack of wellness to wreak their own particular havoc. This might have been fine had the havoc being wrought not been quite so time consuming and unstoppable, as back at the ranch, anxiety levels while the semi final boarding calls were being announced began to reach something of a peak.
Fearing the worst, a search party was despatched with kindly staff scattering in all directions to scour the enormous cavern that is the Emirates lounge. At exactly the same time however, her sinuses, which had themselves been taking a battering of late, exploded.
Husband lost, nose bleeding at a thousand litres per second, search party out, the situation seemed truly hopeless for a time but of course there was a happy reunion and a successful and quite orderly boarding in the end. Another comfortable and sleep filled flight ensued with both bodies recovering remarkably before our arrival in Paris, where finally we found our feet, feeling fit and at one with our surroundings, if a little weak after the ordeal of the past few days.
An hour or so later, waiting in the queue at the station, Paris’ Gare du l’Est, to buy our tickets to Lunéville, it happened.
“What have you two been up to?” came the distinctly British voice from just ahead of us. Hmmm, ten minutes in France and we’d bumped into old friends.
We are home.