Sunday 22nd June 2008. Disaster

Sunday 22nd June 2008.

While we were at the Emp Russ and I began to bicker about the travel arrangements. I insisted that we get a taxi from the shop to the train station because of the lizards. I’d allowed for this in my budget and even with slow moving traffic I couldn’t see it costing more than twenty pounds. Better that than three dead lizards. Russ balked at the idea and wanted to use the tram. We had Tia’s ridiculous suitcase that would have sufficed for a month, all our stuff and the huge box with the lizards in their separate carriers inside. A smaller box with the viv furniture and crickets made up the sum of our luggage. Tia, who had almost been blown away on the walk from the café to the shop came down firmly on my side and swung the deal. Though I intended to take a taxi anyway, I was paying for it so didn’t see what grounds he had to moan.

Martin had to have his little joke. Apparently the only box that was big enough was one that he’d had new stock delivered in the day before. I spent the taxi journey ripping stickers from the side of the box, which read, ‘Dangerous, handle with care: Live Aligator!’ I was dubious about whether they’d let us on the train with our cargo as it was.

We left the Emp at twelve thirty. I’d estimated that we could have the animals home and back under heat by three thirty, four at the latest. They were well packaged and had individual microwave heat packs in their carriers. All should have gone smoothly.

And the journey did begin well. We were dropped off by the railway station door. The taxi only cost twelve pounds when I’d budgeted for twenty. The best news of all was that we only had to wait five minutes for our train to come. I received some very disapproving looks from the guards on the platform and was waiting for them to say, “Oi, you can’t take that on the train,” but they didn’t stop me, mainly I feel, due to the fact that I wasn’t advertising man-eating alligators. To get the box down the aisle of the train I held it high above my head.

One bloke half way down said, “You haven’t got a big snake in that box have you.” Obviously he knew that reptiles are usually transported in polystyrene boxes such as the one I held.

I shook my head and carried on moving but the damage was done some kid yelled, “She’s got a snake. She’s got a snake.” I did my best to hide the box amongst our other stuff on the luggage rack and sat on a seat where I could keep an eye on it. The crickets were delighted to be out of the cold and on a nice warm train, as they warmed through they began to sing their pleasure to the world. Suddenly they began making the most horrendous noise as only crickets can, so much for keeping a low profile.

We were soon at Preston and that’s where our luck ran out. It was Sunday and the rail networks have never managed to get their heads around the concept of a smooth Sunday service. We were told we had a two-hour delay and couldn’t get the next train until three forty. This would only take us as far as Lancaster, but unfortunately we’d miss the connection and have a further hour and a half to wait there too. We wouldn’t get home until half past seven. That meant that the lizards would have been in the box for seven hours rather than the three I’d allowed for. The heat packs would have cooled and I was worried about suffocation with them being inside a carrier inside a box.

I was worried sick about the lizards and at this point Tia pulled her, ‘I’m not happy’, face which is similar to though not quite as irritating as her, ‘ugh this food’s horrible’ face, and at least the ‘I’m not happy,’ face isn’t pulled in conjunction with a wide open mouth and a clear view of half masticated food. “I want to go home, Daddy.”

“We are going home sweetheart.”

“But I want to go home noooooow.”

“Won’t be long now.”

“I want my mummy.”

And so she continued for the entire two hours … but this was tame in comparison to the whingeing when we got to Lancaster and had a further delay. She rang her mother every five minutes on her top of the range phone to tell her how unhappy she was. Whenever Tia is with either of her parents she regresses form a ten year old to a three year old. When she talks to them she uses a whiney baby voice, when she talks to me she uses her grown up voice. I was furious, Russ had spent a fortune and bent over backwards to give us a good time and all she could do was tell her mother how boring it had been and what an awful time she’d had. After speaking to her mother for the fifth time she announced. “Daddy, I can’t wait here any longer, you are going to have to get us a taxi.”

I must admit, because of the worry about the lizards I had contemplated the same thing but discounted it because of the cost.

“We can’t sweetheart it would cost too much money.”

A taxi had pulled up outside.

“Well I’m going to go and get in that taxi right now and tell him to take me home so give me some money.”

I’d had enough of her.

“I’ll tell you what Tia, if you’ve got a spare hundred quid or so in your pocket, I’ll gladly take you and put you in that taxi right now.”

She sulked and glared and whinged and whined and cried and whimpered and got on my nerves. I think Russ is wrong when he says that I’m very selfish where children are concerned. That’s not fair … but if he’d called me impatient, intolerant and snappy I’d have to agree with him. When she’s good, she’s great but as soon as she starts playing up I have no patience with her, or any other kid. Those seven hours must have seemed like a lifetime to her. We were freezing cold and she was bored. I tried to explain to her in the beginning that we all wanted to get home just as badly as she did and that moaning about it wasn’t going to get us there any quicker, and that’s when I was being nice. In the end I just couldn’t be bothered with her and shut off.

On the last leg of the journey the train was packed and we all had to stand. We stood all the way to Carnforth and then two seats became available. Russ and Tia took them leaving me standing with the lizard box because there was no room on the luggage rack to put it down. At Grange a four-seater table was free, I took it and expected Russ and Tia to come and join me, they stayed where they were. Suited me.

Finally I had the chance to check on the lizards. I opened the box just enough to get my hand in. I didn’t want escapees on the train. All three of them were cold and very lethargic. When I lifted their carriers none of them opened their eyes or moved, although they were still breathing. Time was running out and I needed to get them home quickly. We only live five minutes from the station but I rang ahead and made sure that a taxi would be waiting outside for us.

When the train pulled up Tia and Russ were the first off. Russ didn’t wait to help me with the box though he did take the luggage. I had to wait for everybody else to get off the train before I could negotiate the thin passageway with the lizards. It was only a couple of minutes but by the time I got off Tia had already left with her mother. I never got a hug or a thank you or even a goodbye. I felt very insulted. Russ made excuses for her bad manners as he always does. I could have been nicer to her on the journey home. I wouldn’t have wanted to say goodbye to me either.

As we pulled up in the taxi I noticed that my front door had been decorated. Several eggs had been smashed against it and left to congeal and smear. So, it has begun, lovely. Apart from that the house seemed to be in order.

I needed to get the new lizards organised and already had vivs set up and ready for them. The agama had been a whim buy but I’d intended to buy a uro and a collard and I’d wanted a female blue tongued skink but he didn’t have one in stock, the agama went in the viv set up for the bluey.

Not one of them put up any resistance when I took them out of their carriers. I was very worried about them. The agama had lost all of her colour and was black, particularly under the chin. I weighed them all and then put them in their respective vivs right under the heat lamps. After five minutes the Agama had lifted her head and was taking stock of her surroundings. Within half an hour she was wearing her Technicolor dream coat. The collard and the Uro were soon coming to life too. All three of them were absolutely fine no thanks to the train service.

I didn’t expect them to eat after their ordeal but when they’d thoroughly warmed through I gave the uro some salad. He was busily exploring his viv but he didn’t eat anything. The second I dropped crickets in for the collard and the agama they both went mental for them. The tiny collard had five crickets and the agama is such a pig that I lost count of the amount she ate. What a little hunter she is too. I’m absolutely delighted with all three of them. The uro hasn’t eaten yet but I’m not worried because, as I knew he would, when he discovered the ornamental stump that I’d bought for him he climbed it and sat basking at the very top. If he was in any way traumatised or unhappy he wouldn’t have done that.

Mark skanked a fiver off Russ and made a hasty retreat. I hadn’t noticed the door when I’d gone into the kitchen to make up the uro’s salad. If I had there’s no way that we’d have lent Marty the money or let him out. Yesterday the weather was horrendous and Marty had been rained off at work. He’d been home by lunchtime and he tried to lay on the guilt trip by telling me that while we were in a restaurant eating a big lunch he was sitting on the doorstep in the pouring rain. I admit, that’s unfortunate and if he’d been six rather than sixteen fair enough. But he has a boatload of friends, he could have gone to one of their houses. He gets in all of the pubs without any trouble he could have had his own pub lunch until Nicki arrived at four. What he didn’t need to do was kick a bloody great hole in my back door. The little neglected boy act doesn’t work any longer. I wanted him to come to Blackpool with us but when he found out that Tia was coming along he decided that it wouldn’t be his thing and opted out.

Russ spent all of Sunday night boarding up the hole in the door and fixing new locks because the original one had been broken. We did find time to name the new lizards though, as always in keeping with their country of origin. The uro is called Kasbah, with a ‘K’ as is the place name. The collard is called Dakota and the agama is called Kish ... or Kish-me when we use her nickname.

The police said they were coming to tell us what was happening on Sunday evening. Guess what? They never turned up.