So here I am, NOT sitting on the beach sipping a cocktail in Turkey like I said I would be in my last post. Not wearing any of the new clothes I bought for my holiday. Not anywhere but back on my own sofa writing this and drowning my sorrows in a tub of ice cream.
We packed our bags, went all the way to the airport, stood in the queue and made it to the check-in desk, only to be told I wasn’t allowed to travel because my passport had come apart from the seams. Basically the cover had come apart from the visa pages and neither James nor I had any idea it had until we were told at the airport.
I’m absolutely devastated, especially since my first round of birthday plans with my mum also fell through, but I keep reminding myself that at least we still have our health, happiness and each other. Surviving the Manchester Arena attack last month really put things into perspective for me.
So here we are, trying to re-group and come up with an alteranive plan for my birthday whilst simulaneously stressing about applying for a new passport so I won’t have to cancel any more upcoming travel we had planned in July and desperately appealing to our insurance company to let us make a claim for all the money we lost. Total nightmare.
Its been a weird couple of months for us with the attacks and my mom falling sick and James being away a lot and now this. But I suppose it could be a LOT worse. At least all my loved ones are healthy and happy and these are all just tiny bumps in the road
For now, we’ve booked ourselves into a gorgeous litte hotel in York and are having a little city break in the UK to celebrate my turning twenty eight. Who says plan B can’t be awesome, too?
Oh, and Turkey? Sit tight. You and I are gonna see each other real soon, k?