Monday was a pretty special event for Joe and I...or at least it was supposed to be. The Habberdashers, one of London's oldest guilds (est. 1371), was having an event in London and we were going to get to go. These people are exactly what you might imagine old rich British high society to be. They probably still fox hunt when they aren't throwing parties and giving away money to charity. Needless to say we were very excited about going.
The Habberdashers give money to Joe's squadron to help bring home individuals when they are deployed and a family situation comes up. So they needed some people to show up on behalf of the squadron. I rode the train to London with one of his squadron mates and then met Joe at the train station. The plan was to grab a snack beforehand, go to the church service, and then back to the Habberdashers' Hall for a champagne reception and fancy hors d'oeuvres.
As soon as I got off the train, I started feeling queasy. I was determined to shake it off and have a great time. (Rub some dirt on it!) However, about 2 minutes into the church service, it became clear that that was not an option. The rest proceeded like a bad movie. I excused myself to find a bathroom, but I had no idea where they were. A man tried to help me, but the doors were locked. While he went to find keys, the tunnel vision came and I realized I was not going to make it. I ran out the doors and vomited all over the front of the church. When I was finally done, the man guarding the door made me sit down on a bench and handed me an umbrella, as it had begun to rain. I had never been so embarassed in my life. I was really hoping the rain would wash me down the drain so I wouldn't have to face these people and their comments as they exited the church.
When the service was over, we boarded busses back to the hall. I began to feel better, but it was clear that my night was ruined. I just wanted to go to bed. I did force myself to drink about three sips of champagne on account of the fact that I figured it wasn't the cheap stuff.
The next day I felt tired and weak. Fortunately, it was Tuesday and Ben could go to nursery. I dropped him off after his first nap and went home for a nap of my own. Although I did begin to feel better, my afternoon got a lot worse. On the way home from picking Ben up, I had a car accident. I hit a car as I was trying to make a right hand turn.
It was so awful. Benjamin was crying, I was crying. No one was seriously hurt, but I just felt so stunned. Everyone around me was so kind, helpful, in control. I could barely speak. I kept feeling guilty, like I had been doing something careless. But I hadn't been. No speeding, no cell phone, no adjusting the radio. It was just a bad intersection, with a bad blind spot. I had actually been stopped for a while at the intersection waiting for an opening. I just should have waited longer.
I'm grateful for small miracles. Joe was feeling sick and had come home early so he was nearby when I called. He ran over and helped me handle the police and medical personnel (and entertain Benjamin, who by this point was feeling fine again). I was so glad he was there.
Now that it is Friday, I am feeling more positive about surviving the week. I just really hope the worst is over.
This is one of those rare moments where my internet is working, so I am going to use this time to update some pictures. The two of Ben were taken last weekend. We explored an old monastery in Norfolk and found a great pub. The one of me and Joe is at the Habberdashers' Hall in London...before I got sick. Enjoy!
Helmet or not, that is one cute kid! We all really enjoyed our picnic by the ruins. Afterward, Ben enjoyed "walking" around.
