Travelling (part 2)

This evening actually appears to be going quite well for me! not only did I manage to earn the undying hatred of quite a lot of people who had been queuing to book in since before the counters had opened by strolling to the service desk (no queue) and getting my boarding card (well, my third one actually, since the first had my seat at standby and I hadn't liked where they'd sat me when they did allocate me a seat, hence the visit to the service desk) but I also got a window seat all the way to the UK so yay for me! I have, since then, had a rather nice meal at the PJ O'Briens in the check in desk area (making sure that I was nowhere near my flight time) and a couple of nice glasses of wine to help wash the delicious beef and guiness pie down. I was, therefore, in just the right mood to appreciate the fact that, after having gone through passport control and customs and finding a screen that would tell me where I have to be in just over an hour, the instruction on it was not 'final call', oh no, not even 'boarding' or 'preparing to board'. Nope, this very friendly screen is instructing me to 'relax' and, you know what, that sounds like a very good idea. UK here I come. Suitably relaxed

travelling

I'm going home! I'm in Melbourne and have just noticed that the queue that was non-existant when I started on teh internet is now huge. Bugger

My telepathic trays

I’ve discovered an amazing thing about my trays at work…they’re telepathic!   I have 2 trays on my desk, an in tray and an out tray, one at either end of my desk and it’s become clear to me that they automatically know what they are supposed to be for the person putting things down!  They can change their state of being from ‘in’ to ‘out’ or visa versa in the blink of an eye.   The practical upshot of this is that no matter which direction you approach my desk from, the nearest tray to you will always be the in tray (because everyone comes to dump stuff on my desk and rarely to take it away again).   It’s a miracle I tell you!   Don’t miss next week’s instalment - the miracle of the coffee making photocopier!  Marvel at the things that it can do…

Horrible sounds

‘snick’   That such an innocuous, harmless sort of sound can bring instant fear into your hearts is almost impossible to imagine.    Nevertheless, it is with absolute horror and with that harmless little quiet sound echoing in our ears, as deafening as a multitude of foghorns blowing in unison that my husband and I look at each other.   For an instant no words need to be said.  The realisation of what has just occurred happened instantaneously and simultaneously.  Then…   ‘Please tell me that you have keys?’  This from my husband, frozen in mid-step.   My hand still rests on the door handle, the metal of it cold in my palm, my fingers curled around it.  The door handle of our front door.  The, and this is the vitally important part, the very locked door handle.   Already the mosquitoes are starting their feeding frenzy on my ankles, my exposed ankles as I had decided to put on a skirt for the first time this Spring.   “I thought that you had one” A remarkably stupid thing to say, given that it is extremely obvious that no, keys are something he does not possess at that moment in time.   This is quite a way from our usual house-leaving ceremony which consists of him going out the door first, me asking ‘have you got keys?’ and double checking even if he says that he does by waiting until he unlocks the car or I know for a fact that keys are in my hand.  Not in my bag, but ready, in my hand, unable to make their escape for this very reason.  My greatest fear is that we will lock ourselves out of the car, which has only 1 key, or the house.  Now, with one terrible little sound, I have managed to do both in one fell swoop.    We cannot get into the car.   We cannot get into the house.   So, after one phone call to our agent and instructions on how to get to the out of hours key keeping person, I embark on a mission to gain the means to re-enter our house.  I do this alone and in the dark as my husband, having climbed up to our balcony to check if the screen door was miraculously unlocked, cannot now get down again without breaking a limb, or the air-conditioner and it’s a race against time to get back to him and let him in before the mosquitoes finish him off.   The next day, itching ferociously around the ankle region (and arms, and neck…) I go to shut the door to the house and pause…   ‘Have you got the keys?’  He just beats me to it.    The answer, thankfully, is yes.

hmmm

Why is it that the phone only never stops ringing when you really don’t want the interruptions?  It never seems to ring when you’ve got nothing to do.

I dreamt...

…that it was spring and I was walking*.  There was snow on the ground, just enough to make everything white with the grass and the daffodils and the snowdrops peeking through, the sky was blue, that wonderful glowing blue that means you should rug up warm before heading out.  There were leaf buds on the trees.   I was in a village walking past the green, with a magnolia tree in flower just off centre in the green, amazingly untouched by the cold, heading to somewhere.  I don’t know where.    I took a turn, past old stone cottages and went up the road which turned after a little while into a track, then a path.   I stopped at a ladder over a stone wall, and turned and looked back at the snow covered valley and the daffodils in the shelter of the wall, a burst of yellow against the grey.   I stopped and sat down and simply watched the world go by and marvelled at the snow covered view and waited for the bluebells to arrive.   *because the tyre on my bike had gone flat and I didn’t have a puncture repair kit.  Don’t ask, I don’t know.

Some days

Some days I wonder if anyone will actually notice if I tip the entire contents of my desk into a bin and start all over again.   Probably not.   In 18 days, 3 hours and 25 minutes I will (hopefully!) be on a plane J