Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Husband's near miss

When your husband says he's on his way to the airport you naturally believe that everything's fine.  There's always the worry that an airline may cancel a flight, but nine times out of ten flights depart Entebbe on time.  We've made flights by the skin of our teeth before, but we've (I'VE) never actually missed one. 

Therefore knowing that Kampala traffic can be beyond horrendous encourages you to leave 84 hours before check-in.  Chris knows that, everyone knows that.  Or at least I thought Chris had a brain that knew that.

Until my phone rang last night at 4pm (7pm Uganda time). 

Me - hey how are you?
Him - hmmmmmmmm, so-so.
Me - what's happened, I'm guessing you're about to board?  Oh don't tell me the plane's delayed?
Him - I arrived too late for check-in, I've missed the flight.  I'm trying to get a 'city hopper' flight to Nairobi in the hope I can make the connection from there to London.
Me - (head rush - I may choke on my inflated tongue).
Him - are you there?
Me - of course I'm bloody well here.  I just cannot fathom how you managed to arrive AFTER check-in.  Are you joking?
Him - the meeting went on longer than I'd hoped.
Him - It's going to be fine, I'll make it.  A lady called Grace is all over it, if it backfires she's already booked me on the same flight in 24hrs time.
Me - 24hrs!  I promise you I'm not having this conversation.  I suggest you start running as fast as your gammy left leg will allow.

Chris has the luck of the Irish on his side.  I never know how he does it - he hasn't got a trace of the emerald isle in his blood (unlike me, I've got about 2 pints of the stuff from my dad's side of the family and am never lucky).  Next thing I knew he'd made the city hopper flight to Nairobi and was being rushed through the departure hall to board the Air Kenya flight (that he'd missed the first leg of) to Londres.

'Whose coming for you baby' was the text I received as he got on the aircraft.  You jammy ba*tard was all I could think, you nearly gave me a heart attack.  And so he's here.  He arrived by train a couple of hours ago looking scruffy, suntanned and dirty footed and is taking a shower as I type.  I am absolutely, blissfully happy and feel that with him by my side a weight has been lifted and we can embrace this last week together, as a united front, before we finally meet our baby.  I actually cannot believe it's happening.

**  And he's mentioned that if it ever happens again he just wont tell me seeing how well everything's worked out.  He's clearly been living in the bush too long, because a) there wont be a next time and b) of course I'll know...we're women...we always know  **

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