Sunday, 5 February 2012

Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane,
Don't know when I'll be back again
~ John Denver

So, I’ve now left England.  I’m currently approaching the Poland-Ukraine border, at a height of 9472 metres.  It’s 7am and I’m 3 hours into a sleepless, thirteen-hour flight from London Heathrow to Kuala Lumpur International Airport.  I usually don’t mind long-distance flights, but this one is made far worse by the fact that I’ve been sitting in this seat since 9.30pm, six and a half hours before we actually managed to take off. Sometimes I love snow, but today I strongly dislike it for delaying my flight by six hours.  I’m grumpy, I’m tired and I feel slightly ill from my 6am dinner. Worst of all, I didn’t get one of those tasty chocolate/cake/cracker/peanut snack box assortments that everyone else received before take-off, because they ran out just as they came to my row and could only offer me a tuna roll, which was more like a cucumber and tomato roll with a hint of fish.  I'm trying to be grateful for my sandwich, but still I can't help noticing with some envy that my neighbour hasn’t touched his snack box yet.  I don’t think it’s socially acceptable to help myself to it while he’s sleeping, but I've still spent a considerable amount of time wondering if I could get away with it.  Anyway, it’s not all bad – I’ve got a front row set and therefore I have plenty of legroom, which is really, really great when you’re 5’4”.  

All grumbling aside, I’m actually, genuinely, truly, very excited. I’m going to Malaysia to see family, going to a wedding, going on a little beach holiday, going to Cambodia, going to KL, going to Penang for great food, then going to Australia for a few months.  Of course, all my friends have said they think I’m going to find some hot Australian surfer guy and fall in love and never go back to England, but I think that’s highly unlikely.  I wouldn’t let myself ‘fall in love’ in such impractical circumstances (definitely a head-over-heart kinda girl) and I won’t even be living that near a beach.  I think that’s just something that girls say to their overseas-bound single friends as some sort of consolation for their inability to find a suitable guy in their own country.  So, I’m setting out to Australia ever the cynic, but who knows what might happen.  I might discover true love after all.  In fact, if the guy sitting next to me happens to offer me some of that brownie sitting in his still-sealed snack pack, I think that would give me sufficient grounds for falling in love with him.  Until lightning strikes, I’ll just sit back and have a few more glasses of this cheap red wine.  

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