So, we’re heading back to Mudd Eisley at the end of another run and I’m thinking about some serious R&R. I’m thinking massage, manicure, drinking my body weight in strangely coloured cocktails, shopping for intergalactic bling and picking out some new collars for the Russian Boys.
Then the Commander drops his bombshell. The mission is over. His head is mush. He needs space to reboot.
Turns out he’s serious and we’re packing up and shipping out. Shipping out to some crazy rehab venture back on Earth called, “Winter of ‘79”.
Now call me shallow, call me vain, call me a tart with a heart who loves her creature comforts but “Winter” plus “Of” plus “79” are not words that have a ring of “5 star luxury accommodation with on-tap butler service” attached.
I remember the winter of 1979. Hell, I remember a fair bit of the Seventies. The decade that fashion and taste forgot. It was like a bad sepia photograph, all beige, brown and orange. And worst of all fashion sins – Mustard.
So Guys, I’m sitting on the dock of the Dropship’s loading bay, twiddling with my bunny ears and wondering whether I can really take this mission. I mean, I love the Commander, he’s my Soul-mate, we’ve been through the best and worst of times together, but come on – a thermal vest in dubious man-made fibres on moi?
So looks like it’s time to really say goodbye on this blog. I have to say that it’s been a blast and a massive part of my life too.
I’ve swept the Dropship one final time, gathered the felines up and I think she’s ready for her next Commander. Hope he’ll understand if he finds the odd cat toy or girly trinket in a dusty corner. Oh and that weird stain on the navigator seat.
But wait, I can see the new Dropship crew approaching………..can this really be true? You know, the third one from the left looks awfully cute…………
Love to all