Thursday16th July

It's been a while.
I thought when I was on holiday, I'd be writing every day but it hasn't turned out that way.

However, I have taken a good few photos which I've just finished downloading onto Lucy'n Scott's computer - so this is a good time to make an entry.

The boys have had their peanut butter sandwiches and grapes for lunch and are now playing in the back room and Ian is watching the golf.

Times flown by. It's been a week since we left Scotland - so I'll try to bring you up to date quickly.

The journey over was surprisingly painless and I had all but forgotten the visit to the hospital the previous day until we hit immigration at Portland.
Having got to the top of the queue, a burly immigration officer sporting a large moustache came over to us and said, "Excuse me ma am, have you had a proceedure recently?"

Immediately feeling guilty (and probably looking it), I admitted that I had had a 'nuclear scan' the previous day.
I couldn't help noticing the flashing red light in his hand!!
"Follow me, please!" he said.

We were deposited in an empty US citizen's line.

The immigration officer at this desk called us forward and we were processed but then the man with the moustache reappeared and we had to follow him into another room.

On one side was a reception counter and facing it were a couple of rows of seats.
He motioned for us to sit down but then asked me to follow him into a small room just behind the counter.

Ian got up too but was told to sit back down!!

I followed the man into the room and sat down.
My hands were shaking and I was worried he would notice - sure sign of guilt.

I cursed the Scottish hospital staff who had told me that my appointment card would be enough to get me through security and that was only on the off chance that I was still radioactive.
"It'll have worn off by the end of 24 hours, no problem." the woman had assured me!

Well no, it hadn't.
The machine on the desk was bleeping like crazy every time I moved towards it.

He read my appointment card...
"It doesn't state what isotope was used," he looked at me.

I shook my head and tried to look innocent.

He shook his head as he pondered the form in front of him.

He wrote down the name of the hospital and sat, pen in hand.

"They're going to refuse you entry," I said to myself. "Talk, talk to him..."

'You know the hospital told me the isotope would have broken down by now..." I twittered.
He wasn't listening!!

At this point, the lady immigration officer who had taken our fingerprints appeared in the doorway,
"Just put down isotope used for nuclear scanning" and she smiled at me!

The man with the moustache nodded and I was free to go!

So much for keeping it short but I thought you might like to share my trauma with me :)

I'll carry on with the catch up later. Cade wants a wee shot on the computer now.