It's 6:24 on the morning of April 28. Today we drive down to Bowmanville, visit my family for the afternoon, and then go to the airport for an 11 p.m. redeye to Glasgow. I'm desperate to sleep on the plane because I've seen every Mayday episode, and I realize that unconsciousness is a great antidote to blind fear and terror. I don't mind remaining awake during take-off, because the ground is close enough that, given some quick thinking, I might be able to cheat death. But the Atlantic takes no prisoners, so let's hope I'm in the land of nod for the duration of those seven hours. Tonight, I'm sleeping with Gravol.
Once we arrive, we're going to grab a rental car, buy a couple of cheap cell phones, and boot it up to Tain (four-hour drive). It would have been nice to spend the day in Glasgow, take our time, ease into the whole jet-lag thing, but of course, how could you golf in Tain on Friday morning if you did that? So I'm depending on my sleep-deprived, not-used-to-driving-on-the-right-side husband to get me safely to Tain while I doze on the not-used-to-dozing-on-the-left-side passenger seat.
Onwards and upwards. I'll post next from Scotland if Air Transat comes through for me.
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