We’re staying at the home of the unfortunate Aunty D, of Hammersmith Halo fame.
On the first night of the long chats with Aunty G her face melts in front of my eyes!
Her mouth droops, her eyes close and I hear a mumble that sounds a bit like “sfgleedkfpvkjfinghv tablet” and she reaches for a contraption that makes me think she’s going snorkeling.
Protruding from the nose-piece is a tube that looks very disturbingly like a large dildo.
Our conversation ends, just like that….. with me in mid-sentence and her in mid-meltdown.
So I go to my room and have disturbing dreams of Darth Vader.
The only signs at breakfast are the indentations from the mask on the sides of a smiling face. I marvel.
“You know of course we’ll have to move on tomorrow don’t you?” says Aunty G.
“No why, aren’t we here for a few days?” I reply.
“We’re in Bath for a few days, yes, but in a different hostel every night” she says pulling her face.
“whaaat, no ways we can just stay here”, it’s just not debatable.
So we snuggle in for the night, exhausted from the days roaming and chat away until melt-down.
Ten minutes into my drifting into a blissful sleep I’m on high alert.
A helicopter takes off right above me crashes into a roaring lion!
For a second there I listen in disbelief. Again it spins up, up, up with a whining desperate sound, holds for a breathtaking three seconds and then comes at the roaring lion with aggressive fury.
The same helicopter takes off and crashes into the same roaring lion all night long, over and over again.
Coughs and sighs and exasperated noises come from six sleepless beds.
It spins up, up, up with a whining desperate sound, holds for a breathtaking three seconds and then comes at the roaring lion with aggressive fury.
I lie dead still, rigid, wide awake.
It spins up, up, up with a whining desperate sound, holds for a breathtaking three seconds and then comes at the roaring lion with aggressive fury.
I’m tempted to shake her awake to make sure she’s ok, but as I listen I realize there’s a pattern, a rhythm. She’s alive and well, fast asleep and blissfully unaware.
It spins up, up, up with a whining desperate sound, holds for a breathtaking three seconds and then comes at the roaring lion with aggressive fury.
Eight hours of pillow bashing and animal slaughter later, she wakes refreshed and beaming.
A room full of travelers glare and growl and Aunty G cheerfully says “Oh my, did I snore? So sorry it happens sometimes, but not to worry we’re leaving today”.
“Oh and we must go and get my tabs cause if I don’t take them, my snoring will keep me awake!”
I love my Aunty G
Bath, London 2004
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