Russian Journal - Day 7

Day 7 - Lost and found

Had a restless night. Woke up in early hours feeling nauseous and sick. This could only mean one thing. Today was going to be my obligatory designated sick day. It happens every year. For one whole day I have stomach issues in mother Russia.

Today of all days. Bad timing indeed as it is none other than my birthday. I'm entering my 44th year on planet earth.

Vladimir was feeling rough yesterday with similar symptoms. The only thing we have had the same was maybe some suspect beer. Personally I think it had something to do with the salmon pie we ate last night but I have little proof as Ira has not been struck down, yet.

I decide to stay in bed and leave the others to goto the beach.

I spend a thoroughly horrible couple of hours trying to sleep and fight off the temptation to vomit.

When the others arrive back i try and join them in a spot of lunch, which is soup and some kind if minced meat thing. I don't get very far.

I'm persuaded to join ira, mac and Vlad for the beach afternoon session. The warm fresh sea air might do me good.

We catch the usual taxi (our 78th) to the beach Vladimir likes. We alight and just as the taxi is pulling away I realise something is missing. Something small, oblong and perfectly formed.

My iPhone has fallen out my shorts pocket in the taxi. My heart is in my mouth when I realise. I shout to Vladimir and Ira. Quick as a flash Vladimir springs into action and hails a cab back to the apartment, so that he can contact the taxi company.

Meanwhile I start thinking the worst. This really is the worst thing that can happen. But no, it isn't, there's more to come.

While we are walking down the steps to the beach, both preoccupied with the iPhone incident, Small Treadwell seems to have escaped our vision. We scan the beach and the last place he was found, but nothing.

We start panicking, calling out to him. People on the beach illicit us some devilish looks. We run up and down the beach frantically.

I'm still feeling rather nauseous, and now I'm feeling positively sick. My heart is racing, nasty thoughts tumble through my mind. Where the hell is that boy.

Ira speaks with someone on the beach and then shoots off up the steps and along the main walkway. I presume someone has seen him, and give pursuit. I'm feeling completely out of energy, sweat is poring from me. I'm sure I'm about to have a heart attack or something.

We run about a quarter of a mile down the walk way and there, in the distance, sitting on the stone wall by the exercise machines, is a little boy looking decidedly like small Treadwell.

He's not even crying. Or looking worried? He doesn't even see us coming. We give him what for and make sure he knows he's done wrong. Why the hell he decided to wonder so far down the beach is beyond me.

Severely reprimanded, we go back to where the whole sorry business started. The whole beach seems to be looking in our direction as we arrive back. A man with a bullhorn sits at table with a female and asks Ira what happened. Eventually the boy-hunt is called off. The helicopter told to return to base and everyone returns to there sunbathing or swimming or people watching. I, wait for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

Soon after I hear Vladimir calling me and out of his pocket he produces my phone. I almost kiss him. Everyone around seems puzzled that I'm more pleased to see my iPhone rather than my son.

So within the space of 15 minutes I've lost both my phone and son and then re-gained them back.

I spend the rest of the afternoon chilling out and recovering from the ordeal. Max, unscathed by the events soon returns to his normal naughty self.

Later in the evening, back at the apartment I am treated to a bacon pork and potato slice thing with salad. Followed by a cake which resembles Mount
Vesuvius, and champagne. Vladimir, it seems has still got the old magic.

After an after dinner walk down by the sea front, through the fairground, we return home and think about how much worse things could have been on this eventful Birthday...

Like, how the heck would have I continued these journals with no iPhone?