The thing is, airports like me. They don’t want to part from me. They enjoy my company and pine at the thought that I might leave. As some of my keen blog followers know, I had a lengthy and intense relationship with a snowy Dublin Airport in late December until at last I extricated myself and went by train/boat. Earlier evidence of airports’ affection for me was in Amsterdam in early December, the pretext being the need to access a new plane from some distant country. I have also spent equally fulfilling time on the tarmac at Charles de Gaulle in Paris (computer failure), in Philadelphia (thunder and lightning), en route to Toronto (still a mystery but twelve hours of mystery is a bit over the top), Ithaca New York State (yet more thunder and lightning – no originality there), London (couldn’t be bothered to take me to Glasgow so had to find a plane to Edinburgh instead), Belfast, Faro Portugal, Bucharest – and so on. I’m sure I’ve made my point. I walk into the airport and it falls in love with me, feasts its CCTV’s upon my elegant appearance, talks lovingly to me through tinny tannoys, occasionally (very occasionally) takes me out to dinner paying by a crumpled torn voucher. Ah well. Here we are at the start of our once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Southern Hemisphere. Six and a half hours in and funnily enough it still looks uncannily like a wet February in Glasgow out there. Unless Dubai is actually much wetter than I have been led to believe. Apparently our plane lacks an essential gismo which could only be obtained from Heathrow. And so we wait. I’m beginning to think that it is perhaps quite a good thing that this is a once-in-a-lifetime trip...... At this rate there’ll be no time left for another one in my lifetime anyway. But at least I know that I am loved. By yet another airport.
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