I blame it on the revolutsia

I always new Friday was going to be a big day.

For starters, it was the first full day Mr Moi was home from Moscow! That’s right, after being apart during my three week sojourn to Australia, I came home to an empty apartment for two weeks. But now he’s returned, which is noteworthy if not for anything else but the subsequent increase in my laundry quota.

Secondly, I’d organised to meet my new bliend, sarahemily, sometime in the afternoon. What time, I wasn’t sure; it mainly depended on who cracked first and demanded some Moldovan fizz and a ‘thank God it’s Friday’ moment.

And I’d been invited to brunch. MmmMMmm, I just love brunch. I’d volunteered to make my signature* Chocolate and Banana Bread. Being my usual disorganised self, of course I left baking to the last minute – Friday morning, 7am (exactly 3 hours and 30 minutes before brunch started). You can’t beat fresh fresh baking.

So the day was, needless to say, a little hectic.

At 7am, I was in the kitchen in my pyjamas, fending Mr Moi off the three bananas I’d purchased for the sole purpose of making Chocolate and Banana Bread. The bread was in the oven by 8am, at which time Mr Moi left the flat, and left me with a bag of clothes that needed to be ‘re-washed’ (which means, they didn’t dry properly the first time and thus, stunk).

From 8am, I was a good little blogger, doing my rounds with a cup of coffee. Ten minutes later it was 9:15am, the bread was burning, I hadn’t had a shower, I had to hang out the washing,
and I had to email sarahemily to arrange a time to meet (with strict instructions that she was to send me a text message because my phone still does no outgoing calls or texts).

I dashed off the email, took the bread out of the oven, had a shower and was getting ready to leave when I realised it was 10am – which is the time I’d arranged to meet my friend, new-mum H, who lives a 15 minute walk away.

When I arrived at new-mum H’s building, she was nowhere to be seen, so I got the lift upstairs, rang her bell, rang it again, waited 5 minutes and rang it again. Determining she must have left, I went back downstairs, where I met her at 10:30am, only 30 minutes late, which was coincidentally the time we were supposed to get to brunch.

Giving Igor the driver strict instructions to get us there quick smart (via the bakery) we set off. Igor must’ve listened to me, because he did a 20 minute drive in 10 minutes, and I got a five minute stopover at the bakery.

But the time we arrived at brunch, we were a little out of breath, only 15 minutes late, and really bloody hungry.

Cut to two hours and 45 minutes, two babies, one pie and lots of coffee, toast and muffins later…

Igor knocked at the door to let new-mum H know he was here to pick us up. We bustled off into the car, tried to drive down one street, only to find that it was shut – protesters. So we headed up another street and drove along for a while at about 5 kms per hour. My phone rang and I scrambled to pick it up, and that’s when I saw the text message waiting for me. Don’t have time to read it, must answer phone…

Of course it was sarahemily. She’d sent me a text, which I hadn’t read. It had told me to meet her 1:30pm, which was 15 minutes ago, near the revolutsia action, which happens to be halfway between our two flats. I assured her I was on my way, I should only be 30 minutes late, so I’ll see her in 15 minutes.

“Do hurry,” said sarahemily. “It’s just started to rain and looking at the protesters is losing their novelty factor.”

Roll forward one hour, three cut-off streets, two protester camps and one more phone call from sarahemily. As Igor manoeuvred the car close to new-mum H’s building, I flung the door open, took a rolling dive from the front seat, landed on my feet and started running to where sarahemily was waiting.**

I reached the rendezvous point in record time (14 minutes as opposed to 15), and saw someone waiting around the corner. As I walked around the corner, I was shocked to see sarahemily had a beard, wore cargo pants and had a penchant for Doc Martens.

Then a text message came through on the phone. Oh, she’s gone into a shop, so cargo pants wasn’t sarahemily at all. And I can’t tell you how happy that mades me feel.

So, we met. One hour and 30 minutes late. After I caught my breath, we toddled off to MegaMarket, where security had shut the gates and were only letting people in one at a time – and only if they weren’t carrying a flag.

We invested in some cheese and fizz and hightailed it back to my place, past the 10 smelly portaloos that were on the street to cope with 1000 protesters with normal bodily functions. We enjoyed our Moldovan fizz… but I can’t help feeling awful for keeping my new friend waiting 1 hour and 30 minutes.

I blame it on the revolutsia.

* Well, Bill Granger’s signature dish. Close enough
** Made up, of course. I don’t even bend down to tie up shoelaces, let alone jump out of a moving car

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12 thoughts on “I blame it on the revolutsia

  1. my, you’ve been a busy little girl…sounds like lots of fun, even with igor driving you to and fro all over town!! 🙂

  2. Well. I suppose that’s a much better story than “I slept in, sorry I am 1 and a half hours late”.

  3. Dear elena jane. Yeah, poor igor. He helps me and new-mum H with our russian – the traffic is so bad here, we can be stuck with him for a while.

    Dear pamela. Ahh, there’s nothing like a revolutsia to blame being late on.

    Dear theotherbear. Too bloody right! It doesn’t sound like I’m just making excuses… does it?

    Dear claudia. Props to you for actually reading to the end! The Moldovan fizz was.. fizzy.

    Dear karmyn. Me too! You don’t know how relieved.

  4. I stood next to that bearded bloke for a while – did you notice his umbrella which has pictures of cute kittens all over it? I almost asked for a picture then I though he might shout at me so I didn’t. BTW, you mentioned you had brunch, but not sure babies make it onto my idea of a menu! (…”Cut to two hours and 45 minutes, two babies, one pie and lots of coffee, toast and muffins later…”)

  5. ‘From 8am, I was a good little blogger, doing my rounds with a cup of coffee. Ten minutes later it was 9:15am,’. I think I have the same clock as you!!!

    Glad you finally met up and that sarahemily wasn’t the bearded guy.

  6. enidd thinks that “i was late because of a revolution” beats “the dog ate my homework” in her list of top excuses. well done.

  7. Dear sarahemily. Ahh nothing wrong with nibbling on a baby here or there. They just like… baby powder. Or breast milk.

    Dear no. So not royalty but if you have a bit of money in this town, you can get a taste of what it’s like. Oh my, have to go, the cleaner is here.

    Dear sabrina. Yes, and there’s a lesson on what NOT to do when you meet beccy! Ie. be late. I mean don’t be late. Oh you get what I mean!

    Dear beccy. Hehehe glad you liked that joke. Yes, it’s a shitty clock isn’t it??

    Dear enidd. Oh thanks! I thought it was a good excuse too, and now I’ll blame everything on it for the rest of my life.

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