Fact or Fiction? - 13

Yesterday's story - I'm really sorry that I made some of you upset.

The story was...

First, I have to address this comment

I suspect this story is fiction. You remember the horse's name, yet write of the girl as if she was a stranger.

Great deducting powers, there. Unfortunately, I'm more likely to remember animals' names than people. I seem (or at least seemed) to get on better with animals.

The story was true. All of it, as I recall it.

I'd not really spoken to the girl that owned Danny. I just spoke to him - I spoke to all of the ponies and horses, even the 'not so pretty' ones.

Isn't it odd that animals seem to sense when someone has an affinity with them. I saw a quote once, It's like your soul recognises mine.

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Today's story.

A few years ago, for one anniversary or another (I think it may have been our wedding anniversary) Trev told me he'd booked a surprise for us. He'd taken the day off and we had to get up really (stupidly) early because we were going off on an adventure.

The kids were at Grandma and Grandad’s and the next morning, before it was even light (for goodness sake!) he woke me up and said we had to get ready to go.

I am SO not a morning person. I can’t function, I never want breakfast and I need an hour or more in which to come to terms with the fact that I’m no longer snuggly in my bed.

Heaven forbid anyone should expect me to interact with them, especially if it means being polite.

I was still trying desperately to deny the fact that we were up, out of bed, awake, out of the house and on our way on an ‘adventure’. Trev knows better than to talk to me, he’s had years of practice of dealing with me in the morning.

We got into the car and set off.

The sun glinted at exactly the right angle to hit me sock in the eye whichever way I happened to look. Yeah, yeah… nature in all its glory… I’m TIRED!

He’d made me a cup of coffee to bring with me.

It burned my lip.

Trying to take another drink, the car hit a bump and I spilled hot coffee on my leg. I knew Trev was trying not to laugh. His face was kinda contorted into an “I’m NOT laughing, I didn’t even see what you did,” expression.

I sighed and sipped my hot coffee.

We stopped at the entrance to a field and I perked up a little.

‘Has he bought me a horse?’ I thought… not that I wanted another one, really… loads of work.

Not practical… but I admit I was curious, so I followed him to the gate.

Oh boy… a HUGE hot air balloon stood in the middle of the field. People - strangers – stood around the balloon basket. Some were working on it, others were standing around, chatting. One guy held a blue clipboard in his hand and he checked the page clipped to it.

Yes, I was a hot-air balloon virgin

‘Oh my absolute fucking god, you did NOT pay to torture me like this?’ I screamed inside my head. ‘Why would you do this to me? I’ve been a good wife… well… an adequate wife, haven’t I?’ I thought. ‘There’s just no reason to do this to me… not after all these years of being married.’

You see… and what he’d just simply forgotten… is that I don’t like heights.

“Ah, the happy couple!” the guy with the clipboard gushed. He raised the clipboard in some kind of greeting and I gritted my teeth so that I didn’t swear at him – or Trev… or the other perfect strangers.

“We have Champagne for when we get to our ‘cruising height’,” he said. “Because it’s a special day, we decided to throw that in.” He ushered us to the front of the crowd and gave us the safety talk.

All I could hear was blood pounding in my ears to the beat of my heart. I didn’t know whether I wanted the noise to stop or not. I wasn’t sure I was even going to be able to get onto the bloody basket!

At last, the clipboard guy placed a footstool at the side of the basket. He waved his hand at me because, of course, I was going to be the first onto the death-trap!

I had plenty of time to inspect the weave of the basket, the ropes and rigging, the fire, the fuel canisters, the actual balloon itself.

Falling out of the sky or falling out of the sky while on fire?

By the time the last one (clipboard guy) got on board, I was close to panic.

Just like I cannot see the point in leaping from a perfectly good plane for skydiving, I have to question the sanity of people who actually decide to go miles up into the air inside a large shopping basket strung under a balloon which is powered by fire.

Does it make sense to you? No, me neither!

I don’t recall much of the terrifying journey, I really only remember clipboard guy asking Trev if I was ok… Trev looked at me and I’m not sure if I looked REALLY poorly or that he’d just remembered that I don’t like heights.

“Just pass the Champagne,” he said. He put both arms around me and held me tight against the side of the basket. “Why didn’t you say something while we were on the ground?” he asked.

No, I don't need the glass...

“I thought I’d be able to cope,” I said, sheepishly.

I can’t wait to see what we’re doing for our anniversary this year… probably sky-diving…

Oh yeah...

Happy Birthday Trev!