So, as promised, an actual blogging.
You can die of shock now.
So. On saturday morning, I packed my bag and set out to london, to support a couple of furries I knew who were taking part in the race for life in london, with the intention of accompanying one or both to the bizarre ball later on.
I got delayed by realising that I'd not checked EVE for a few days, and my training queue had probably expired. Updating it took half an hour.
Then I missed a train by seconds.
The cockups started there, but didn't stop.
My phone battery was low. My MP3 player was low on juice. I had to spend 5 minutes attaching things to my trousers, including the straps and chains I'd removed for the wedding in York.
After exchanging a few text messages with the organiser if the little meetup, I arrived in london ahead of my adjusted schedule, and tubed to where I was meant to meet her.
She wasn't there, and a crowd was. A few text messages and calls later, I established that her phone was on silent (annoying), and that she was on the bus on the way to the tube station. Then she ambushed me as I was checking my phone, on account of having arrived.
We met up with a couple of others, and headed to the start of the race, pausing so the two racing could change into their fursuits for the race, assisted by the other girl who'd turned up to support. They made their way to the start after posing for photos, and I was stuck with the bags, in the middle of a field, in direct sunlight. Wearing black and a leather coat. I made my way to the shade near a fence to watch the start of the race, dragging two suitcases and my bag of picnic.
The race started, I took some photos, they failed to notice me waving and shouting to them. Then they passed. And I waited, eventually drifting over to the finish line a few yards away once I'd found it. And waited some more, gaining more than a few looks and a few comments about the tail. 'Oh, you're supporting the cats, right?' 'Ohhh, I like your tail!' 'Mummy, that man has a tail!' And so forth.
Time passed. After an hour and 10 minutes, I spotted them. They didn't spot me AGAIN, but I'd predicted this, due to them not being able to see or hear much in those suits. I headed around to where the vanished friend had led them, and ambushed them with congratulatory hugs and a quick photo, before leading them back to my shady patch to de-head and cool off a bit, and pose for more photos. They'd made me the official photographer because I could take pictures and had a camera, and I was determined to do well. Food was had, and the cheap-ish isotonic energy drinks I'd picked up for them went down well.
Then we lazed in the shade for a while, chatting and art-ing. Or rather, they drew, and I tried to sculpt a putty rubber.
A few hours later, we headed to the tube station, and sent the other girls off. I remained with Jazzy, as I was accompanying her to the ball later, and she'd organised the meetup anyway. We took a bus to check out the trocadero center, and poke around the anime gubbins store, then buy some booze to get primed for the party. She had to go after a while, though, as she needed to go home and sleep and change and stuff. So, I hung around for a while.
Then I realised I hadn't printed my E-ticket, and set off to find an internet cafe with a printer.
Half an hour later, I found one near waterloo. Old, slow computers, but cheap, and I got 40 minutes to check facebook and catch up with Jazzy and get some information on stuff. Turned out the people we were meeting for the ball were setting off at 11PM. Wtf. I'd planned on getting ready to leave it at that time.
So, Jazzy set about getting back to me after I ran out of time on the net.
An hour or so later, she'd arrived to be taken to dinner. And my phone had died, so I had to fiddle SIM cards to get her number off my regular phone to the international one I'd taken for emergency use, knowing about the low battery on the regular one.
Dinner was a series of small cock-ups. We wandered for a bit. Nandos was packed and had a looong wait for a table. I couldn't find the pub in the area that did good food. We settled on burger king because I had coupons. Then there was an issue with someone trying to scam a free burger, and trying to destroy one of the tills to get attention and the free burger. Totally ignored by the staff as she stormed off.
We got our food, and headed off to the nearby park to sit on the grass and eat it, and chat for a bit. Then we headed off to find the hotel the guy we were meeting was staying at.
London buses are complex and hard to read, even for a local. We got there, eventually, and discussed what to do about finding the guy while standing under the hotel's sign.
Then someone opened a window in the building across the street and shouted at me in a very camp voice. It was one of the london furs, who turned out to be staying with the guy we were meeting. They'd spotted me through the window, from two floors up and across the street. I suppose nobody else in london has long curly hair, kitty ears, and a leather trenchcoat with a fluffy black tail sticking out the back.
We headed up to the room for final preparation. We painted someone white, and then blue, and added fake blood details. I soaked my hair down to de-frizz it after a day outdoors. Jazzy changed into her zebra-maid outfit, and borrowed my paws and leash. The she proceeded to get rather drunk before I realised how much she'd had, and confiscated the vodka. We then set off, a bunch of freaky types, a zebra-maid-girl, a catboy, and a freaking gargoyle carrying a cross proclaiming that judgement had come.
Lots of wierd looks.
We arrived, and hung out for a bit after I checked my coat and the bags. LOTS of eyecandy. Scanty costumes on guys AND girls, cleavage, boobs not covered by much at all, and a few sets only by paint. Me and jazzy split from the group to investigate a room upstairs, which turned out to have a dance floor and thumpy industrial music interspersed with rob zombie. We drifted back down for a bit to mingle a bit more, but found it boring and headed back after taking in a burlesque strip act. Then a stage act came up, apparently 'extreme suspension' or somesuch.
There was an intro with harley-quinn-esque dancers/actors, and then they pierced a wierd-looking bald guy through both cheeks, his tongue, and his lip as well. Jazzy slipped off to use the toilet, then they pierced a girl's knees and suspended her from a trapeze. While she was wearing fishnets, latex panties, and a smear of latex over her chest.
Then the dancers showed up again, doing more of their act before heading off. A few prizes were awarded for OTT hair, and a truly awful band came on. I realised Jazzy hadn't showed up, and set about looking for her.
A LONG while later, she turned up, and explained she'd been in the bar upstairs. Wtf. I didn't know there was ANOTHER upstairs. I thought that was just the way to the toilets. I followed her up, and discovered the third floor bar and dance floor. They were playing metal, too!
I danced, she hung out with the rest of the furries and queued for a photoshoot. Furries were admonished for buying her more vodkas, and I tried to get her to drink some water after I bought myself a drink. After a bottle of cider, I went back to dancing, feeling a little buzzed and looser, and having turned my brain back on with bottled water. I found a group of metalheads, and joined them. No need to discuss things or try to be heard over the music; the brotherhood of metal is just like that. You just sort of accept people who're enjoying the music, and move to let them join you. The dancefloor was kinda crowded, so there was the odd apology for bumping into someone, or for catching them with an elbow.
Dancing with a tail is kinda hard at first, but you just have to move a bit slower, and accommodate it. And get used to it being bumped.
After a few hours, I got tired and grabbed a seat at a booth. The other occupants of the booth were a pair of cutegirls in corsets with cleavage, who asked me to pose with a 'no entry' sign held over my mouth. Then showed me the photos of other people posing with it, before taking a few more of people with it, held over various areas. Or just held up to their ass as they were dancing. Then I was asked to take pictures of them with a guy who came up with similar goggles on, which I did after a few shots of my finger because phone cameras don't have any indication where the lens IS without looking.
Then after a while of chilling a bit and enjoying the music, the photoshoot finally got done, and I collected Jazzy to get her home.
Then trouble started. I got her to drink some water and have a snack, then she tried to find a way home. I had, earlier, been asked (by her, multiple times) to make sure she got on a bus home, so I helped. Eventually, we got to trafalgar square, and loaded onto a bus that would get her home. Mission accomplished.
But I was still in London. At 3AM.
The tube had stopped an hour ago.
I had no idea which buses to take from there.
Or of the routes.
And only a vague idea of the geography.
Oh, SHIT.
Deciding that any bus to anywhere wasn't gonna show up for ages, and not wanting to spend time at a bus stop surrounded by drunks, I set off walking. I grabbed a bottle of water after a bit, and turned my brain on again. Then took my tail off and packed it in my bag, so I could make better time, and set off walking again. And donned my paws, to keep my fingers warm. I was sober, hydrated, freezing, and sarcastic. And kinda lost. I knew vaguely where I was, but didn't know I was walking AWAY from the station I wanted. I found another major station from road signs, then tourist maps and more road signs, figuring I'd be able to get some hot food there. I was cold, the kind of cold you get from a cold riverside wind when you've not eaten for six hours and burned all of that off already.
No luck. Closed. Fuck.
I grabbed a bus to oxford circus, figuring that as a major shopping street, it'd be a transport hub. Some of the buses from the square went there too, so it was a good assumption. Turned out to be a good one; I found that the N7 bus went to my station. I popped into a shop to try and get directions, but one guy was busy with his prayers, and one had no idea. I wandered out again, trying to think where else to ask, then spotted a bus. N7. And a bus stop, next to me, where it stopped. FUCKING SCORE.
I got on the bus, but saw no clue it went where I wanted. Minor panic, but the sign had said, and it was warm and had seats. I got to the station, and found a door. Locked. And I was busting for a piss by this point.
I tried asking the doorman at the nearby hilton if there was any chance of getting in to use the toilet, but he said no, and directed me back to the station. And refused to listen when I complained that it was shut until an hour's time. So, I headed to the station by HIS directions, finding the part that was open to a street. A-ha! Only nothing was open, not even the toilets. And I was FREEZING.
I waited around a bit. 2 1/2 hours until the first train home. I figured that the travelcard the bus drivers had accepted so readily wouldn't work so well for the first train of the next day, so I bought a single ticket home. On the way back to my seat, I noticed something had changed at the other end, so investigated again. The toilets were open! I paid the entrance charge, and proceeded to empty £7 worth of drinks into the urinal. Then staggered to the now-open McDs, with the aim of getting some 'chicken' nuggets. BREAKFAST MENU. I had no idea what was what. Or what was edible. Double sausage and egg? Sounds good to me. And some orange juice, too.
It wasn't very good. But it wasn't very expensive, either, it was hot, and it was at least edible, and meat-like, and had some fraction of an egg, and was at least fried in grease that had calories. And the juice perked me up some. The hash brown was nasty, but I ate it anyway. The packaging proclaimed proudly that I had just consumed 72% of my RDA in salt!
I hadn't slept for 24 hours. I'd been in london for most of that, walked what must have been 10 miles, fried my brain in a club, and had only had one attempt to feel me up. Or suspected attempt; they sort of missed and hit my hip instead, and left me confused. But I could still do mental maths.
I wandered back to the seats by the timetable board, and watched the display, my stomach feeling like it had something in it. That's pretty much what I'd wanted. I tried to sleep. I failed. I put my headphones in, trying not to shiver from the cold wire, and risked my MP3 player. I knew it had a few hours of charge in; I needed two for the train to show up, and one to get home on it. I decided not to fuck with the playlisting, and let shuffle go where it wanted.
I sort of dozed, waking up every so often to check the time on the board. Then the train arrived! I leapt to my feet, grabbed the bag, and hustled for it, knowing that if I dawdled, I might miss it and be stuck for half an hour.
The ticket barriers were just left open. Why did I waste money on that ticket again?
The doors wouldn't open. ASSHOLES.
Then suddenly, the button lit up brighter, so I pushed it. They opened. Then grabbed a seat; my usual choice of the middle of a block of three, with a space between them and the facing three, with mine facing the direction of travel. I leaned back and tried to doze.
When the train stopped at a station, people took one look at me, and decided to find seats elsewhere.
The train stopped in twyford. Thanks to engineering work, it was on the 'fast' line, on one of the seldom-used platforms on them. No steps to climb to get onto the street. SCORE.
I set off walking again, singing along to the music in my ears, getting up a gait that didn't press too hard on the heel that was hurting, and covered ground well. The sun was up and shining, cars were moving, the ground was wet from rain. As I arrived home, the front lawn looked like it had grown and needed mowing. I hadn't fucking slept in 30 fucking hours. 24 hours ago, I was setting off TO london! The fucking NEWSPAPER was stuck in the letterbox, taunting me. I got into the house, thankful I'd made sure to pack my keys. I plucked the paper from the door and glowered at it, before dropping it on the mat for my mother to find when she woke up, and got to shedding things. Coat, headphones, fluffy things, chains, other fluffy things. Then flomped to the floor to untie my boots for the first time in a bit over 24 hours.
I shook the right one out to get rid of the thing that had been irritating my foot. Then probed for the hole in the insole after nothing fell out. Nothing there, either. I investigated my sock, finding a lump. I pulled the sock down, finding a blister. That explained the pain. Good thing I'd got home when I did, or it would have burst.
I staggered up to bed, changed to my pyjamas, and examined the areas my shirt had been irritating. My shoulders and collarbone were rubbed raw. Next time, undershirt.
I texted tan to let him know I was okay and to spread word, then curled up and slept.
5PM, I woke up. Then texted Jazzy to see if she'd got back okay. She had. Mission Accomplished!
So. On saturday morning, I packed my bag and set out to london, to support a couple of furries I knew who were taking part in the race for life in london, with the intention of accompanying one or both to the bizarre ball later on.
I got delayed by realising that I'd not checked EVE for a few days, and my training queue had probably expired. Updating it took half an hour.
Then I missed a train by seconds.
The cockups started there, but didn't stop.
My phone battery was low. My MP3 player was low on juice. I had to spend 5 minutes attaching things to my trousers, including the straps and chains I'd removed for the wedding in York.
After exchanging a few text messages with the organiser if the little meetup, I arrived in london ahead of my adjusted schedule, and tubed to where I was meant to meet her.
She wasn't there, and a crowd was. A few text messages and calls later, I established that her phone was on silent (annoying), and that she was on the bus on the way to the tube station. Then she ambushed me as I was checking my phone, on account of having arrived.
We met up with a couple of others, and headed to the start of the race, pausing so the two racing could change into their fursuits for the race, assisted by the other girl who'd turned up to support. They made their way to the start after posing for photos, and I was stuck with the bags, in the middle of a field, in direct sunlight. Wearing black and a leather coat. I made my way to the shade near a fence to watch the start of the race, dragging two suitcases and my bag of picnic.
The race started, I took some photos, they failed to notice me waving and shouting to them. Then they passed. And I waited, eventually drifting over to the finish line a few yards away once I'd found it. And waited some more, gaining more than a few looks and a few comments about the tail. 'Oh, you're supporting the cats, right?' 'Ohhh, I like your tail!' 'Mummy, that man has a tail!' And so forth.
Time passed. After an hour and 10 minutes, I spotted them. They didn't spot me AGAIN, but I'd predicted this, due to them not being able to see or hear much in those suits. I headed around to where the vanished friend had led them, and ambushed them with congratulatory hugs and a quick photo, before leading them back to my shady patch to de-head and cool off a bit, and pose for more photos. They'd made me the official photographer because I could take pictures and had a camera, and I was determined to do well. Food was had, and the cheap-ish isotonic energy drinks I'd picked up for them went down well.
Then we lazed in the shade for a while, chatting and art-ing. Or rather, they drew, and I tried to sculpt a putty rubber.
A few hours later, we headed to the tube station, and sent the other girls off. I remained with Jazzy, as I was accompanying her to the ball later, and she'd organised the meetup anyway. We took a bus to check out the trocadero center, and poke around the anime gubbins store, then buy some booze to get primed for the party. She had to go after a while, though, as she needed to go home and sleep and change and stuff. So, I hung around for a while.
Then I realised I hadn't printed my E-ticket, and set off to find an internet cafe with a printer.
Half an hour later, I found one near waterloo. Old, slow computers, but cheap, and I got 40 minutes to check facebook and catch up with Jazzy and get some information on stuff. Turned out the people we were meeting for the ball were setting off at 11PM. Wtf. I'd planned on getting ready to leave it at that time.
So, Jazzy set about getting back to me after I ran out of time on the net.
An hour or so later, she'd arrived to be taken to dinner. And my phone had died, so I had to fiddle SIM cards to get her number off my regular phone to the international one I'd taken for emergency use, knowing about the low battery on the regular one.
Dinner was a series of small cock-ups. We wandered for a bit. Nandos was packed and had a looong wait for a table. I couldn't find the pub in the area that did good food. We settled on burger king because I had coupons. Then there was an issue with someone trying to scam a free burger, and trying to destroy one of the tills to get attention and the free burger. Totally ignored by the staff as she stormed off.
We got our food, and headed off to the nearby park to sit on the grass and eat it, and chat for a bit. Then we headed off to find the hotel the guy we were meeting was staying at.
London buses are complex and hard to read, even for a local. We got there, eventually, and discussed what to do about finding the guy while standing under the hotel's sign.
Then someone opened a window in the building across the street and shouted at me in a very camp voice. It was one of the london furs, who turned out to be staying with the guy we were meeting. They'd spotted me through the window, from two floors up and across the street. I suppose nobody else in london has long curly hair, kitty ears, and a leather trenchcoat with a fluffy black tail sticking out the back.
We headed up to the room for final preparation. We painted someone white, and then blue, and added fake blood details. I soaked my hair down to de-frizz it after a day outdoors. Jazzy changed into her zebra-maid outfit, and borrowed my paws and leash. The she proceeded to get rather drunk before I realised how much she'd had, and confiscated the vodka. We then set off, a bunch of freaky types, a zebra-maid-girl, a catboy, and a freaking gargoyle carrying a cross proclaiming that judgement had come.
Lots of wierd looks.
We arrived, and hung out for a bit after I checked my coat and the bags. LOTS of eyecandy. Scanty costumes on guys AND girls, cleavage, boobs not covered by much at all, and a few sets only by paint. Me and jazzy split from the group to investigate a room upstairs, which turned out to have a dance floor and thumpy industrial music interspersed with rob zombie. We drifted back down for a bit to mingle a bit more, but found it boring and headed back after taking in a burlesque strip act. Then a stage act came up, apparently 'extreme suspension' or somesuch.
There was an intro with harley-quinn-esque dancers/actors, and then they pierced a wierd-looking bald guy through both cheeks, his tongue, and his lip as well. Jazzy slipped off to use the toilet, then they pierced a girl's knees and suspended her from a trapeze. While she was wearing fishnets, latex panties, and a smear of latex over her chest.
Then the dancers showed up again, doing more of their act before heading off. A few prizes were awarded for OTT hair, and a truly awful band came on. I realised Jazzy hadn't showed up, and set about looking for her.
A LONG while later, she turned up, and explained she'd been in the bar upstairs. Wtf. I didn't know there was ANOTHER upstairs. I thought that was just the way to the toilets. I followed her up, and discovered the third floor bar and dance floor. They were playing metal, too!
I danced, she hung out with the rest of the furries and queued for a photoshoot. Furries were admonished for buying her more vodkas, and I tried to get her to drink some water after I bought myself a drink. After a bottle of cider, I went back to dancing, feeling a little buzzed and looser, and having turned my brain back on with bottled water. I found a group of metalheads, and joined them. No need to discuss things or try to be heard over the music; the brotherhood of metal is just like that. You just sort of accept people who're enjoying the music, and move to let them join you. The dancefloor was kinda crowded, so there was the odd apology for bumping into someone, or for catching them with an elbow.
Dancing with a tail is kinda hard at first, but you just have to move a bit slower, and accommodate it. And get used to it being bumped.
After a few hours, I got tired and grabbed a seat at a booth. The other occupants of the booth were a pair of cutegirls in corsets with cleavage, who asked me to pose with a 'no entry' sign held over my mouth. Then showed me the photos of other people posing with it, before taking a few more of people with it, held over various areas. Or just held up to their ass as they were dancing. Then I was asked to take pictures of them with a guy who came up with similar goggles on, which I did after a few shots of my finger because phone cameras don't have any indication where the lens IS without looking.
Then after a while of chilling a bit and enjoying the music, the photoshoot finally got done, and I collected Jazzy to get her home.
Then trouble started. I got her to drink some water and have a snack, then she tried to find a way home. I had, earlier, been asked (by her, multiple times) to make sure she got on a bus home, so I helped. Eventually, we got to trafalgar square, and loaded onto a bus that would get her home. Mission accomplished.
But I was still in London. At 3AM.
The tube had stopped an hour ago.
I had no idea which buses to take from there.
Or of the routes.
And only a vague idea of the geography.
Oh, SHIT.
Deciding that any bus to anywhere wasn't gonna show up for ages, and not wanting to spend time at a bus stop surrounded by drunks, I set off walking. I grabbed a bottle of water after a bit, and turned my brain on again. Then took my tail off and packed it in my bag, so I could make better time, and set off walking again. And donned my paws, to keep my fingers warm. I was sober, hydrated, freezing, and sarcastic. And kinda lost. I knew vaguely where I was, but didn't know I was walking AWAY from the station I wanted. I found another major station from road signs, then tourist maps and more road signs, figuring I'd be able to get some hot food there. I was cold, the kind of cold you get from a cold riverside wind when you've not eaten for six hours and burned all of that off already.
No luck. Closed. Fuck.
I grabbed a bus to oxford circus, figuring that as a major shopping street, it'd be a transport hub. Some of the buses from the square went there too, so it was a good assumption. Turned out to be a good one; I found that the N7 bus went to my station. I popped into a shop to try and get directions, but one guy was busy with his prayers, and one had no idea. I wandered out again, trying to think where else to ask, then spotted a bus. N7. And a bus stop, next to me, where it stopped. FUCKING SCORE.
I got on the bus, but saw no clue it went where I wanted. Minor panic, but the sign had said, and it was warm and had seats. I got to the station, and found a door. Locked. And I was busting for a piss by this point.
I tried asking the doorman at the nearby hilton if there was any chance of getting in to use the toilet, but he said no, and directed me back to the station. And refused to listen when I complained that it was shut until an hour's time. So, I headed to the station by HIS directions, finding the part that was open to a street. A-ha! Only nothing was open, not even the toilets. And I was FREEZING.
I waited around a bit. 2 1/2 hours until the first train home. I figured that the travelcard the bus drivers had accepted so readily wouldn't work so well for the first train of the next day, so I bought a single ticket home. On the way back to my seat, I noticed something had changed at the other end, so investigated again. The toilets were open! I paid the entrance charge, and proceeded to empty £7 worth of drinks into the urinal. Then staggered to the now-open McDs, with the aim of getting some 'chicken' nuggets. BREAKFAST MENU. I had no idea what was what. Or what was edible. Double sausage and egg? Sounds good to me. And some orange juice, too.
It wasn't very good. But it wasn't very expensive, either, it was hot, and it was at least edible, and meat-like, and had some fraction of an egg, and was at least fried in grease that had calories. And the juice perked me up some. The hash brown was nasty, but I ate it anyway. The packaging proclaimed proudly that I had just consumed 72% of my RDA in salt!
I hadn't slept for 24 hours. I'd been in london for most of that, walked what must have been 10 miles, fried my brain in a club, and had only had one attempt to feel me up. Or suspected attempt; they sort of missed and hit my hip instead, and left me confused. But I could still do mental maths.
I wandered back to the seats by the timetable board, and watched the display, my stomach feeling like it had something in it. That's pretty much what I'd wanted. I tried to sleep. I failed. I put my headphones in, trying not to shiver from the cold wire, and risked my MP3 player. I knew it had a few hours of charge in; I needed two for the train to show up, and one to get home on it. I decided not to fuck with the playlisting, and let shuffle go where it wanted.
I sort of dozed, waking up every so often to check the time on the board. Then the train arrived! I leapt to my feet, grabbed the bag, and hustled for it, knowing that if I dawdled, I might miss it and be stuck for half an hour.
The ticket barriers were just left open. Why did I waste money on that ticket again?
The doors wouldn't open. ASSHOLES.
Then suddenly, the button lit up brighter, so I pushed it. They opened. Then grabbed a seat; my usual choice of the middle of a block of three, with a space between them and the facing three, with mine facing the direction of travel. I leaned back and tried to doze.
When the train stopped at a station, people took one look at me, and decided to find seats elsewhere.
The train stopped in twyford. Thanks to engineering work, it was on the 'fast' line, on one of the seldom-used platforms on them. No steps to climb to get onto the street. SCORE.
I set off walking again, singing along to the music in my ears, getting up a gait that didn't press too hard on the heel that was hurting, and covered ground well. The sun was up and shining, cars were moving, the ground was wet from rain. As I arrived home, the front lawn looked like it had grown and needed mowing. I hadn't fucking slept in 30 fucking hours. 24 hours ago, I was setting off TO london! The fucking NEWSPAPER was stuck in the letterbox, taunting me. I got into the house, thankful I'd made sure to pack my keys. I plucked the paper from the door and glowered at it, before dropping it on the mat for my mother to find when she woke up, and got to shedding things. Coat, headphones, fluffy things, chains, other fluffy things. Then flomped to the floor to untie my boots for the first time in a bit over 24 hours.
I shook the right one out to get rid of the thing that had been irritating my foot. Then probed for the hole in the insole after nothing fell out. Nothing there, either. I investigated my sock, finding a lump. I pulled the sock down, finding a blister. That explained the pain. Good thing I'd got home when I did, or it would have burst.
I staggered up to bed, changed to my pyjamas, and examined the areas my shirt had been irritating. My shoulders and collarbone were rubbed raw. Next time, undershirt.
I texted tan to let him know I was okay and to spread word, then curled up and slept.
5PM, I woke up. Then texted Jazzy to see if she'd got back okay. She had. Mission Accomplished!