A short account of Hapless C's shame (part 1). By Laurie

Question- what should one not do hours prior to an international flight (in this instance, from Paris to Stockholm)?

Answer- dose oneself up to the eyeballs with laxatives. This is what the Hapless C. did and by lord, did she pay for it. We arrived at Paris Beauvais airport after a lovely week in Paris. Shortly after, the bathroom stops began. At first I thought it was odd that C. went to the ladies three times before the security check. But she drinks a lot of water. After we made our way into the departure lounge, again I thought it was quite odd that C. rushed off. I queried whether C. was ok and it was then that C. revealed her penchant for self medicating- apparently when one laxative doesn't work, you pop another one. When the second fails to work, pop two more.

Once the queue to the plane got a moving Hapless C. needed to run off to the toilet once more, leaving bags full of shoes purchased from Paris second hand shops, with me. I must admit that I was getting a little flustered because I know the Darwinian struggle for Ryanair airline seats. I had visions of securing the best two seats on the plane but now those dreams were making their way down the drain. As the minutes ticked away, C. finally emerged and it was left to me to race past old men and women and perhaps I may have even backhanded a child or two, to claim two seats at the very back of the plane. They were near the bathroom, a point which I'm sure did not go unnoticed by Hapless C. After shoving the luggage overhead with some venom, we were off, holding hands and reflecting on the week that was in Paris, the city of love.

Thank you for your time.

PS. don't tell Celina.