Or what happens when you go broad for 5 days to a hot destination and the pixies eat your luggage.
You laugh. Long and hard.
And smile like it doesn't matter.
You then start to tot up the cost of the missing items, and sentimental value and other such things and this makes you stomp off to try and find something to wear that you haven't had on for 18 hours at airports and on planes and at dinner that evening too.
This leads to stomping back down the beach in semi darkness, which is very pretty and the stars twinkle and it doesn't seem so bad.
Until you're blow drying your soggy knickers while you wear them to speed the process the next morning, as humidity means they've failed to dry by other means.
Then there's a slight sense of humour lapse.
but it's just a blip and you have nice day and get some more work shirts and are assured that the world's favourite airline won't let you down, after all, terminal 5 is definitely fixed now and has stopped eating suitcases. Surely.
Must be a Caribbean glitch and the bag will be back when you come back from playing with the stingrays.
OR it would be, if the tracking label system worked.
Only it seems not to.
So no one knows where you bag is.
Mild lamenting for your favourite running 3/4 lengths ensues.
Brand new Clarins Flash Beauty Balm that you would like to rub into your sunburnt nose.
The cable for your ipod, you camera battery charger.
Your own pants.
3 new underwire bras.
The list steadily grows even though you're not writing it down so you can continue to smile in the face of adversity.
And yet really, being luggageless with a credit card, even on a tiny island, isn't really adversity is it
It's a pain in the backside but hey.
This too shall pass.
The Caribbean sun shines on. The waves crash
I saw a huge puffer fish today.
and loads of southern stingray.
It was all in all a good day.
As you may be able to tell, i have been united with new clean underwear, which has really bucked me up.
But if you know the god of suitcases, put in a good word...