Just a few minutes to go until my flight is announced. I am not someone who usually enjoys airports, but after a morning of domestic activity – stripping the bed, loading the washing machine, hanging out the wet bed linen, ironing it, remaking the bed, and a dozen other little things I needed to do before leaving home – the air conditioned anonymity of the airport has been pleasant and the time has passed very quickly.
I heard that today may be the hottest day of the year so far in London. I shouldn’t be surprised. It was great for getting my washing dry, but not the sort of heat I enjoy in cities. So it is with a sense of relief that I am heading to the colder climes of Co Derry.
I didn’t get to have an emotional departure with MasterB. He took himself off to one of his favourite sleep spots in a drawer under the bed around ten this morning and didn’t come out. He will be looked after by the Young Relative, and she has a collection of telephone numbers at her fingertips for back up if necessary.
By chance Celia was setting off to Brighton at the same time I was leaving for the airport, so we had an unscheduled meeting at the bus stop before we went our separate ways.
The bus was busy, but the train to the airport wasn’t. I was early. I felt myself relax. The queues were short for bag drop and security. I have watched other passengers, half listened to conversations, read an interview with Colton Whitehead.
It’s all been very civilised. With luck the boarding the plane bit will be equally as relaxed.i’ll let You know later.