Monday, April 05, 2004
36 hours, 3 evening meals, two lunches, one breakfast, some tears, a diverted bus, rail replacement coach, an hour and a half in Singapore, one film, some sleep, one copy of Vanity Fair, and a whole lot of night time.
Am I psychic? I didn't think so but the last line of the last post was strangely prophetic. It was the flight from hell. Due of course to being one of the unlucky bastards who were told "we're sorry but you're not going to get on this flight, due to our company's policy of overbooking." Never mind that I booked and paid for this in September, had requested seats and showed up on time. Oh no. Still ten hours later, and a lot of lolling about at the Hilton @ Heathrow, I was poised ready to board my plane. I'd made a new friend along the way, Margaret, and we were both slightly hysterical by this point and also very eager to get on the plane. We were compensated and they did give us both lovely aisle seats at the emergency exit - complete, in my case with slightly annoying very long legged Frenchmen. You can imagine my tutting and the pursing of lips if one of their exessive limbs crept in my direction.
Arrived at the ungodly 00.25. Lied blatently about the content of food in my bag.
"Do you have any food in your bag madam"
"No" (hides crisps, chocolate and Polo mints)
Walk into the arrivals area, it's warm, embarssingly wave at a man thinking 'Gosh Dad has aged', realise it's not him, look further afield, 'No I wasn't waving at you sir' and see my dear Dad. He hasn't aged and he is looking well. Am terribly grateful he's the only one there, it's too late and I'm too tired and so far from glamorous it's not funny.
A drive home along wide open roads devoid of traffic. It's dark. No one leaves their lights on. The city is barely luminated. It's odd. I'm used to the fairly light vista of my East London tower. Am utterly convinced I won't sleep, and I'm right, until Mick calls at 10.00 am and I realise sleep wasn't a problem
Lay in bed for a bit and listened to the sounds of the suburbs. All I could hear were Kookaburra's, a lawnmower and the occasional car. Actually that's still all I can hear.
Not unsurprisngly it's sunny and we've already been down to the shops. It's the cultural hub. I suspect I'll see Innaloo (stop sniggering at the back) Shops more than I will many of my friends. Red Rooster roll for lunch. Yum.
And that's it. I'm going to start calling people and making plans (for Nigel).
Hello London.
xx
Oh and Pen, ear worm for the flight..... vociferous.
Am I psychic? I didn't think so but the last line of the last post was strangely prophetic. It was the flight from hell. Due of course to being one of the unlucky bastards who were told "we're sorry but you're not going to get on this flight, due to our company's policy of overbooking." Never mind that I booked and paid for this in September, had requested seats and showed up on time. Oh no. Still ten hours later, and a lot of lolling about at the Hilton @ Heathrow, I was poised ready to board my plane. I'd made a new friend along the way, Margaret, and we were both slightly hysterical by this point and also very eager to get on the plane. We were compensated and they did give us both lovely aisle seats at the emergency exit - complete, in my case with slightly annoying very long legged Frenchmen. You can imagine my tutting and the pursing of lips if one of their exessive limbs crept in my direction.
Arrived at the ungodly 00.25. Lied blatently about the content of food in my bag.
"Do you have any food in your bag madam"
"No" (hides crisps, chocolate and Polo mints)
Walk into the arrivals area, it's warm, embarssingly wave at a man thinking 'Gosh Dad has aged', realise it's not him, look further afield, 'No I wasn't waving at you sir' and see my dear Dad. He hasn't aged and he is looking well. Am terribly grateful he's the only one there, it's too late and I'm too tired and so far from glamorous it's not funny.
A drive home along wide open roads devoid of traffic. It's dark. No one leaves their lights on. The city is barely luminated. It's odd. I'm used to the fairly light vista of my East London tower. Am utterly convinced I won't sleep, and I'm right, until Mick calls at 10.00 am and I realise sleep wasn't a problem
Lay in bed for a bit and listened to the sounds of the suburbs. All I could hear were Kookaburra's, a lawnmower and the occasional car. Actually that's still all I can hear.
Not unsurprisngly it's sunny and we've already been down to the shops. It's the cultural hub. I suspect I'll see Innaloo (stop sniggering at the back) Shops more than I will many of my friends. Red Rooster roll for lunch. Yum.
And that's it. I'm going to start calling people and making plans (for Nigel).
Hello London.
xx
Oh and Pen, ear worm for the flight..... vociferous.
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