Third time lucky?

Patience is a virtue and something I cultivated as a young boy courtesy of the guidance I received from my Grandfather. 

What he had not prepared me for however are the trials and tribulations of my lovely partner. 

Three times from three now she has managed to forget key items required to take and enjoy a break in a foreign country. 

Firstly there was the month in Berlin (that should been one week) for the marathon which resulted in having to pay an extra £400 at the Ryanair desk just to get the lady back home in time for work the next day.

Next up was 'money-gate' whereby having freshly changed up our savings into Aussie Dollars we headed to Heathrow the night before our flight to save an early rise and morning dash. This full proof plan was cut down within an hour off arriving when it transpired that Nicola had left her fiat currency on the kitchen work top in sunny Luton.

After a series of x-rated superlatives that Nicola herself used to describe herself and some tears, I sucked it up and made an SOS call to my mother. A four hour round trip to pick me up from Heathrow, taking me back to Luton to pick up the money and then all the way back to the airport again. To make matters worse I have had to endure the endless references to 'proper preparation and planning', that I have so often used in the past against the rest of my family.

Still, until today, the truth of that night has never been released, until now.

Lastly and most recently we have had 'coeliac-gate' on route to Paris. With Nicola being a coeliac (allergy to wheat and gluten) and myself being a vegetarian it pays for us to sort out meals for extended travel in advance. An evening and morning spent preparing rice, salad and sandwiches was ruined as we sat on the train waiting to depart and it dawned on Nicola that she had left her food at home. We were already running late to be in London to meet her friend for lunch. 

The next train was in nine minutes so I decided to run back to the apartment to get her food and try to return to the train station before our train left. Fortunately it was not too far and I have been training again more recently for a half marathon and managed to do an almost exact eight minute mile as by the time I returned to the platform the train was just about to finish boarding.

By now I was a complete mess, jeans big boots and a jumper are not exactly classic running gear unless you are evading the police. It was OK though because we were to be on time to meet Nicola's friend and have a quick coffee at least before we departed. When we arrived in the said coffee shop however Nicola's friend contacted us to say she could not make it. 

My dishevelled look was all for nothing, but my record for being a personal saviour remains in tact.