What a panic week. Right up until the last minute I wasn't sure whether I would be able to go on my week's holiday to Queenstown. It was either sitting on my own sofa with my injured leg up on a stool and looking at my back fence for a week or ... sitting on a sofa in Queenstown looking at the beautiful scenery for a week.
I went to Queenstown. But what a kerfuffle. I had to get on the plane in Wellington by way of a lift. I was so embarrassed. Though I could manage to hobble with the aid of my hiking stick (the hospital told me I had to take my crutches, but I refused) on a flat surface through the airport I couldn't get up the stairs to the small plane. Nope, there was no air tunnel, passengers had to walk across the tarmac.
As I stood in the lift that slowly rose up to the height of the plane door, I thought of Grizabella, the sad beautiful cat in the musical show "Cats" as she ascended to kitty heaven. I could hear "Memories" blaring out in my mind. Prior to leaving home my friend, J, had said that she'd get everybody from the gym to line my progress around the airport, all throwing streamers and confetti. I would have died ...
The lift was a bit like the one in the below photo. 'My' lift had a roof, it fitted both me and a ground hostess, it went vertical, and when the lift reached the height of the plane door, a steel plank with railings was stretched out from the plane and I hobbled across that. The plank truly did remind me of 'walking the plank' on a pirate ship - Arghhh!.
I got my groceries delivered by Countdown Supermarket and had a couple of meals delivered. I managed to taxi out to three lunches.
More later ...
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