Everything I have told you so far is a matter of belief, terrifying things I believe about the dark. Yet there are real physical things to be afraid of in this world which are far worse when they occur at night. Such is the case with our last story. Ten years ago the mongoose and I took a trip down to London to see a WWE wrestling event. London was not our usual choice of venue but we theorised this rather unusual event in the WWE calendar was possibly a very rare UK PPV. We were wrong about this but there was one match on the card that was being filmed especially. The whole trip was absolutely horrible and it was entirely my fault.
We wanted to go as cheaply as possible, it was part of our epic adventuring ethos. Alarm bells should have rung when we got rooms for £45 pp. However we arrived at our digs in Stratford to find they weren’t exactly what we expected. I was in the attic and the mongoose was in the cellars below the stairs. To make matters worse both doors had been broken off their hinges and loosely repaired. What do you expect for £45 a night in London?
With our digs checked out we then proceeded back to the O2. The Mongoose had mistaken the Olympic Arena for the O2 Arena hence why we were staying in Stratford. While walking through Stratford high street we passed through a graveyard and I touched a gatepost. There was something unpleasantly wet upon it. Time was short, I wiped my hand and thought no more about it. We then got something to eat at Frankie and Bennie’s inside the arena, it was heaving and options were limited.
When we got seated in the stadium we were high up in the gods. At the top the steps are very steep and the feeling you will fall is ever present. We were watching Chris Jericho’s entrance when I started to feel dizzy and sick. The panic set in and I begged the Mongoose to leave which he obligingly did. We headed back to the guesthouse and said goodnight as I climbed the stairs to the attic and the mongoose went down into the basement.
An hour later I was throwing up into the shared toilet. I had a sharp stabbing pain in my stomach and was completely freaking out. I rang 111 who advised me that I needed to make my way to the nearest A&E department. This was now 3am and I’m not sure the mongoose was thrilled with trying to find a taxi at that time in the morning. Yet we did find one, leaving the guesthouse having paid upfront anyway. As we sat in A&E waiting to be seen the panic faded enough that the idea of staying next to the guy wetting himself became less appealing.
We made our way to Hammersmith train station and caught the underground to Kings Cross. Once there, the Mongoose had a McDonalds before catching our return train. I felt like garbage but given how the night could have gone at several points I counted myself lucky. Once home the pain continued and it turned out I had gastroenteritis caused either by Frankie & Benny’s or whatever the hell I touched on that gatepost. Additionally I had nearly a month off work with anxiety and depression.
Certainly a memorable trip but not one I am willing to repeat any time soon. I make light now but the fear at the time was very real and we were rightly afraid of the dark that night. Sleep well dear readers until we meet again in Series 3 when we shall look at Christmas past through our distorted lens of hindsight.