My weekend

Conversation with my colleague M yesterday over coffee:
Me: So how was your weekend?
M: Stellar. I was in London to see my girlfriend, and we went to the V&A, Brick Lane, had some bad curry.. It was fun. And yours?
Me: Well you know, business as usual. I walked around in the terrific weather, sat in a park and read Lady Chatterley’s Lover (love it!), went to a concert and saw John Legend and the Cure, fainted a couple of times and lost my glasses in the process. Sunday I spent at home, just relaxing.
M: You lost your glasses?
Me: Yes. But it’s OK though, I get by.
M: Alright then.

So what happened was that I had unknowingly subjected my poor self to warm weather, not enough food, beer and standing in a huge cramped crowd for four hours. Coupled with the lasting effects of my cold I guess it all was a bit too much. I remember being bored by the Cure, thinking “I don’t feel so good, I should really get out of here”. I think I turned to my colleague C and said so. We started pushing our way out of the crowd and the next thing I knew I was being carried by paramedics to a nearby tent. I came to thinking I was in M*A*S*H (no, not really, but I was groggy). Through pantomime, some French and Italian I conveyed that I wasn’t dying and that I was OK, although sans glasses.

In the end I was released, and a Swedish acquaintance followed me home. Through dumb luck I wasn’t trampled, I didn’t lose my purse or my jumper (though I would’ve preferred to lose a jumper rather than my glasses) and I survived the experience in one piece. Despite some mortification and mild shock I’m quite alright thank you.