As I follow the signs for the Piccadilly Line my mood shifts and I become much more upbeat. I feel quietly confident that I’m taking the right steps forward. Today has absolutely helped me to understand that I definitely did not need to rely on Hamish for my entire future happiness (and also escape from a time loop).
I feel free.
I feel empowered.
I do also feel regret that I’m wearing this ridiculously long dress, I think, tripping over it for the umpteenth time. It will take me another few years to learn that my diminutive stature does not combine well with the maxi dress, especially when teamed with the old Havaianas I insisted on wearing absolutely everywhere aged twenty.
Wow, Monday Six (Ten Years Ago) is proving to be really insightful! I actually feel wise today, and very appreciative of how much I’ve learned over the years. And not just for the fashion evolution, either. Not everything’s about good clothes and excellent hair, am I right?!
I’m just extremely hashtag grateful that I’m growing as a person. Learning. Becoming. Just look at me! I catch a quick glimpse of myself in the window of a train approaching the platform. Limp, over-ironed hair aside, I’m feeling good.
Hello, future! Here I come.
One final step forward sees me trip, once again, over the bloody maxi dress, only this time I can’t right myself. I feel my arms flailing about for support as I skitter face first towards the dusty underground platform. My arms get tangled up, my legs buckle underneath me.
And the next thing I know, the lights have gone out. Again.
EIGHTEEN
I peep one eye open as the ringing of yet another alarm clock pulls me from my sleep. My phone is lit up like a beacon in the dark, as per usual. This serves me right for being so smug, I decide, as the fact that I very much did still die yesterday comes into sharp focus. All that banging on about learning and becoming? At one point I actually used the words ‘hashtag grateful’ in my head, which surely in itself deserves eternal damnation. The shame. I’m cringing at the memories as I reach to silence ‘Over and Over’.
What Monday will it be today?
Nervously, I sit upright in bed and survey the scene.
I’m in my London flat! What a relief. My racing heart starts to calm as I soak in the comforting sights of my normal bedroom. Silk pyjamas on. Outfit laid out ready. Suitcase packed, checked and waiting by the door.
I’ve gone back to the future! Only without the help of Marty McFly or a time-travelling DeLorean. Ooh, wouldn’t that be fun? I’m sure I’d be much cheerier about this whole debacle if I had a sweet ride to get me from A to B. Like a Maclaren, perhaps? Or, more realistically, the cute Fiat 500 I’ve been lusting after for ages but there’s no need to have a car in London so—
I’m getting side-tracked.
The good news is, I’m back to my ‘normal’ Monday, waking up in the flat I share with Penny and, thank the lord, not wearing a thong or anticipating a naked Hamish to come stumbling in.
I take a moment to count my blessings.
This is good. This is …fine.
Sure, I thought I’d managed to escape the loop, but at least I’m back to the more normal end of things. Although, what the hell happened yesterday? Did I trip over anddie?! How ridiculous. If I thought the whole luggage buggy ending was embarrassing, then clearly I had another think coming. Who even trips over their own outfit in the first place, other than tumbling toddlers? Am I quite literally four years old now?
Maxi Mortality
Even great boobs couldn’t save woman from tragic maxi dress trip hazard
I shake it off. I need to get moving.
Because if I don’t get out of this loop soon, who knows what will happen. My photos are disappearing. Other people’s behaviour is changing. And, very much not coming in third place, I’ve become a murderer. Each Monday is getting weirder and weirder and I need to escape pronto.
Also, just to add to this state of urgency, I cannot wait to see Callum. I missed himhardyesterday. He’s gone from being the thorn in my side to someone I need to be around. I love it when I make him smile, especially when he tries so hard to make it look like he’s not smiling. I love how he seems to find my existence entertaining, even though that used to be the very thing that wound me up about him. And I LOVE the way he takes his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose when he’s exasperated by me, which seems to be most of the time.
Not that I love Callum Bang, obviously. I could barely tolerate him until ten minutes ago. But, you know … we’ve got a lot todiscuss. Like the small matter of him being stuck in this time loop too.
Monday Seven, let’s do this.
Shower. Tube. Great hair. Egg sandwich. HANG ON A SECOND. There is no egg sandwich in the foyer of Terminal Two, repeat, there is no egg sandwich in the foyer of Terminal Two.Huh?On to baggage check and the good news is I spot lovely, lovely Mel waiting at her desk, ready to weigh my big old bag.
‘Oh Mel, how I’ve missed you,’ I sing. ‘It really does feel like seeing a long-lost friend.’
Naturally Mel looks confused as I heave my bag onto the conveyer belt.
