A Lizard In My Luggage Read Online Free
Author: Anna Nicholas
with that he drew a large cigar from his pocket and popped it defiantly in between his teeth, certain for once that I wouldn't dare say a word.
I'm slammed out of my reverie and back into reality with the sound of a deep rumbling far up the track. A procession of tipsy lorries are weaving their way unsteadily over pot holes, large gashes in the road and pools of muddy water left from the previous night's storm. Ollie has somehow inveigled his way into the passenger seat of the front truck and leans out of the open window quietly surveying the scene before him. Alan toots enthusiastically at me from the hire car, his eyes bright with anticipation and a wide beam on his face. Surreptitiously, head slightly lowered, he draws deeply on a cigar butt before ejecting it adroitly from the car window on nearing the house. He doesn't seem to think I've noticed. He parks the car under a carob tree, leaps out from his seat and saunters over to me across the gravel. It looks like we've arrived.
TWO
LONDON: AUGUST
Sunday 5 p.m., Oxford Street
Ed has bought me The Fearless Flier's Handbook . I laugh loudly. It's the sort of puerile joke that appeals to us both. This time he remonstrates earnestly.
  'No, Scatters,' he yelps in between bouts of guffaws, using his nickname for me from university days. 'I really think it might help. If you've got to commute from Mallorca to London each month, you've got to conquer your fear of flying.'
  Ed is a nervous traveller and uses tranquillisers and various potions from his mobile emergency kit, otherwise known as MEK, to assist him in times of high stress; but then Ed's problems are a tad more severe than mine. I mean Ed can't get on a train without a respirator and a dozen pills from the various pouches in his survival bag, which he carries everywhere with him. As for the London Underground, forget it. Ed works as a producer at the BBC and is always in a state of high anxiety when he needs to make business trips. On these fearful occasions he plans his route meticulously, packing his MEK with loving care, or he doesn't go at all. Once or twice I have peeked inside this voluminous bag and registered:
Two packs of Nurofen
Inhaler x 4
Portable electric fan
Two-litre bottle of Evian water
Family size box of Kleenex
Tweezers and scissors
Plasters and bandages
Eight bottles of different coloured pills
Two small bottles of dubious liquid
Eight chocolate muffins
Packet of Jaffa Cakes
Two family size bars of Cadbury's chocolate
Tuna sandwich
Flask of coffee
Imperial mints
Copy of Private Eye
Book with obscure title
Portable CD player and multiple classical CDs
The MEK is no ordinary bag. It's a vortex. In the footsteps of Gladstone, Ed seems to be able to pack endless amounts of medicinal items inside his bag without ever filling the thing. Perhaps the day he tries to flat pack a mobile doctor, nurse and man of the cloth he may come unstuck.
  I look out of the window at the rain tumbling down on Oxford Street. Shoppers are fleeing for the tube stations, umbrellas to the wind. Most look beyond misery. We are sitting in Starbucks, two cappuccinos in paper cups between us. Proper china is off the menu, which really irks me.
  'Do you think you'll ever visit me in Mallorca?' I ask quietly.
  'God. No!' he splutters into his coffee. 'You wouldn't catch me on a plane.'
  I regard him with some alarm.
  He quickly changes tack. 'Well, no, I mean, flying is really safe now. I'm just a bit paranoid. Hopeless really. Not brave like you.'
  I open the book at a random sentence and read to him out loud: '"My fundamental goal in the Fearless Fliers course is to help people realize that they have no control over the aircraft or the pilotâ¦" That's just great, Ed. I feel such immense relief just reading that.'
  'Oh, come on! You can't just pick out a line. You've got to give it a chance. You're so impetuous.'
  I read on, '"Most people
I'm slammed out of my reverie and back into reality with the sound of a deep rumbling far up the track. A procession of tipsy lorries are weaving their way unsteadily over pot holes, large gashes in the road and pools of muddy water left from the previous night's storm. Ollie has somehow inveigled his way into the passenger seat of the front truck and leans out of the open window quietly surveying the scene before him. Alan toots enthusiastically at me from the hire car, his eyes bright with anticipation and a wide beam on his face. Surreptitiously, head slightly lowered, he draws deeply on a cigar butt before ejecting it adroitly from the car window on nearing the house. He doesn't seem to think I've noticed. He parks the car under a carob tree, leaps out from his seat and saunters over to me across the gravel. It looks like we've arrived.
TWO
LONDON: AUGUST
Sunday 5 p.m., Oxford Street
Ed has bought me The Fearless Flier's Handbook . I laugh loudly. It's the sort of puerile joke that appeals to us both. This time he remonstrates earnestly.
  'No, Scatters,' he yelps in between bouts of guffaws, using his nickname for me from university days. 'I really think it might help. If you've got to commute from Mallorca to London each month, you've got to conquer your fear of flying.'
  Ed is a nervous traveller and uses tranquillisers and various potions from his mobile emergency kit, otherwise known as MEK, to assist him in times of high stress; but then Ed's problems are a tad more severe than mine. I mean Ed can't get on a train without a respirator and a dozen pills from the various pouches in his survival bag, which he carries everywhere with him. As for the London Underground, forget it. Ed works as a producer at the BBC and is always in a state of high anxiety when he needs to make business trips. On these fearful occasions he plans his route meticulously, packing his MEK with loving care, or he doesn't go at all. Once or twice I have peeked inside this voluminous bag and registered:
Two packs of Nurofen
Inhaler x 4
Portable electric fan
Two-litre bottle of Evian water
Family size box of Kleenex
Tweezers and scissors
Plasters and bandages
Eight bottles of different coloured pills
Two small bottles of dubious liquid
Eight chocolate muffins
Packet of Jaffa Cakes
Two family size bars of Cadbury's chocolate
Tuna sandwich
Flask of coffee
Imperial mints
Copy of Private Eye
Book with obscure title
Portable CD player and multiple classical CDs
The MEK is no ordinary bag. It's a vortex. In the footsteps of Gladstone, Ed seems to be able to pack endless amounts of medicinal items inside his bag without ever filling the thing. Perhaps the day he tries to flat pack a mobile doctor, nurse and man of the cloth he may come unstuck.
  I look out of the window at the rain tumbling down on Oxford Street. Shoppers are fleeing for the tube stations, umbrellas to the wind. Most look beyond misery. We are sitting in Starbucks, two cappuccinos in paper cups between us. Proper china is off the menu, which really irks me.
  'Do you think you'll ever visit me in Mallorca?' I ask quietly.
  'God. No!' he splutters into his coffee. 'You wouldn't catch me on a plane.'
  I regard him with some alarm.
  He quickly changes tack. 'Well, no, I mean, flying is really safe now. I'm just a bit paranoid. Hopeless really. Not brave like you.'
  I open the book at a random sentence and read to him out loud: '"My fundamental goal in the Fearless Fliers course is to help people realize that they have no control over the aircraft or the pilotâ¦" That's just great, Ed. I feel such immense relief just reading that.'
  'Oh, come on! You can't just pick out a line. You've got to give it a chance. You're so impetuous.'
  I read on, '"Most people
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