By Lucy

Days in England: 9 3/4

[Note: My illness came back with a vengeance over the weekend. My fever has gone down, but I still have laryngitis to the point that I can’t speak. I’ve also been having difficulty managing my symptoms enough to sleep well. Thank you for your patience as I work through my illness.]

Tuesday the 6th was another rest day. I walked to the store, to stretch my legs and also to get some candy! I buy candy very rarely – my snack of choice is chips – but I wanted to get some British candy to try. I also posted some cards to my friends in Canada who wanted postcards. Even in this age of instant messaging, there’s some satisfaction in taking the time to write out a card and throw it in the mailbox. An extra level of effort and time.

Wednesday I woke with a slightly scratchy throat, which I disregarded (woah betide me now) because it’s common enough. The chemo left me with dry mouth. During the day isn’t so bad – I get dehydrated easily, so I’m always drinking anyway – but at night my mouth dries out and I wake up sounding like a smoker, feeling like my throat is on fire. I have a procedure to prepare my mouth for night time, including saliva-inducing tablets, but sometimes it doesn’t work. Rich had a full shift in the afternoon, so we went grocery shopping in the morning and got lunch in town. I made a Biscoff pie to go with dinner and Rich was so excited he somehow lost his phone inside the apartment. I developed a splitting headache in the evening and went to bed early.

At 5 AM I could no longer tell myself it was just my usual aches and pains. I was definitely running a fever and my throat felt like it was on fire. The thing I hate the most is the body aches – it reminds me of being on chemo. I took some Tylenol and rinsed my mouth out with warm salt water, but I was so done that I could barely walk to the bathroom. Rich had a driving lesson early in the day, so when he got home he came in to check on me and found me curled up on the couch, still in my pajamas, lacking the strength to even make myself a tea.

Rich had a triple whammy for all of this. He was having to take care of me, prepare for our trip to Edinburgh, and he still hadn’t found his cell phone. He got me sorted with breakfast, then ran to the store to get me soup and Gatorade. I spent the entire day on the sofa, napping off and on, and towards the end of the day I felt well enough to throw something in the oven for dinner.

Friday was the big day. Rich had an eleven hour shift, and we had to hop on the train to London after he got off work, so I’d be meeting him at the station. He pre-packed one bag and took it to work with him, leaving me a smaller backpack for things that had to be packed last-minute, or wouldn’t fit. I was feeling more or less back to normal, aside from my throat still hurting a bit.

Finally it was time. I threw the backpack on, stuffed my feet into my running shoes, and stepped outside into darkness. I briefly smiled to myself at the idea that I was sneaking out of Rich’s place wearing all black, with a backpack of his stuff, like a thief.

It was a half an hour walk to the train station. I got there just as Rich was purchasing our tickets. The train in to Victoria station is about 40 minutes. From there, we walked around the corner to the Traveller’s Tavern, which is across the road from the bus station. The bus was scheduled to leave at 11:30 and wouldn’t be boarding til 11-1:15 ish, so we ordered some dinner and some cocktails.

At 11, we headed to the bus station and hopped on the bus, the clerk expressing surprise that Rich had the tickets on his watch. We had the best seats: they were on the second floor, at the front. So we had leg room, a good view (of nothing, admittedly, it was the middle of the night), but we were also ahead of the stairway to the second floor, so there was no one behind us either.

The bus driver deflated our giggling enthusiasm a bit as we set out. Turns out Rich didn’t book the bus direct to Edinburgh – he booked a cheaper ticket that had a transfer in Glasgow, which would add somewhere between half an hour and an hour to our journey. Nothing we could do about it now. He also said we only had two rolls of toilet paper and once the bus was out, you were SOL. I was glad we brought kleenex for my cold.

The bus driver had a Glaswegian accent and was probably heading home to some degree, and would make good time. Rich noted that with our unexpected detour, we could visit Glasgow a bit. I pointed out that I was already exhausted, past my bedtime, and we’d have to rush to make plans of what to see before we arrived in eight-ish hours, unless he knew where I could find Tommy Flanagan.

The first hour was good. We were still buzzed from the drinks, and it was exciting to see London at night from a bus. Eventually we left the city behind and plunged into the inky darkness. Rich quickly drifted off, but just like the plane, sleep eluded me for a long time. I finally drifted off for about 3 hours, just enough to feel refreshed. We got to Glasgow 45 minutes early and transferred to the other bus, not getting the good seats but also past caring. It was not quite an hour to Edinburgh, so despite the transfer we got there at roughly the same time.

Now we had to kill time until we could check into the hostel and have a nap. Rich was ecstatic to be back in Edinburgh and was well rested. We discovered the ‘tram’ (streetcar) was finally up and running, so we went to the waterfront to have breakfast at a swanky hotel Rich knew did eggs Benedict. They were… not great. Whether the hotel knew this or they were taking pity on our disheveled state we don’t know, but they actually explicitly only charged us for Rich’s breakfast and had mine on the house, and free is a good price.

Next we went to this giant mall on the waterfront called “Ocean Terminal”. It was also somewhat underwhelming – a good half of the storefronts were empty, and most of the rest wouldn’t open til noon. There was a tour of “the Royal Yacht Britannia” but we decided against it because we knew the money would go to the king.

What to do, what to do? We got the tram back up to oldtown and found a Starbucks. The second floor was entirely a seating area, lined with cozy couches and tables and plugs for our phones. At this point we realized – there were a lot of French people in the city. Arguably more than the Scottish! Turns out there was a rugby game between Scotland and France taking place that afternoon, which made both of us a little nervous. Win or lose, every rugby fan in Edinburgh would be on the streets that night. I asked Rich to stop telling people I was French, but it also meant compared to Kent, my accent wasn’t noteworthy anymore. We ordered coffee and sat around for a couple of hours, but that still only took us to noon.

We walked around the corner to the hostel (CoDE Pods), which was across from St Giles’ cathedral. They were nice enough to let us throw our luggage in our lockers even though it was too early to check in, so at least we didn’t have to tow two heavy bags around with us. On our walk I had an idea – the tour bus! That would kill an hour and not require much effort on our part. We joked with the ticket seller that I was missing ice cream because I’m Canadian, and got on the BrightBus, which is bright orange.

We got back to the hostel around 2:30 and were allowed to check in. I had no idea what to expect since Rich booked it – it seems to be some sort of former jail. The main room was even smaller and less well stocked than the one in Thunder Bay, which was a pity. The rooms themselves were nice – there was 12 beds in our dorm, but I don’t think it was ever fully occupied. They use the “pod” style, where the opening is along the foot of the bed, so the walls are lengthwise. I took the bunk above Rich.

Dinner was a chore. By the time we rose from the nap, France had won the game, which had been close and was almost Scotland’s win. I asked Rich to take me to someplace to try haggis, but basically every place that served alcohol was overflowing with people drinking and was standing room only. It took us an hour and a half to find somewhere to sit down, which informed us we had to leave by 7 and didn’t serve haggis. We ate quickly and went back to the hostel.

The evening was spent playing Exploding Kittens with a couple of Aussie’s who were backpacking around the UK. Hostels have the added benefit of being filled with like-minded people, people who want to travel, try new things and meet others like them, people who don’t want to sit around some sunny resort with a drink in hand. I felt, like I had with the Vagabond, like I had joined some elite club. Finally I had found my people!