Saying goodbye and the flight

Day 1 – Monday 18th January

So here I am sat in Singapore airport waiting for my flight to Brisbane. I’ve just had a decent flight from Heathrow, made more entertaining as I was sat next to an old boy from Denmark, and I’ve had this idea about keeping a diary while I’m away. You never know, as I’m so “down with the kids” it might become a fully fledged blog posted on the internet. The idea really came to me on the plane as I wanted to remember some of the stuff Martin told me. Making memories is what this trip is about as much as anything. Martin was 69, he showed me his passport to prove it!, and on his way to visit his brother in Darwin.

I guess I should really start at the beginning though. I will skip over the tears briefly and probably make it a rule for the rest of this story that they will not be mentioned again. I said a very quiet and heartbreaking goodbye to Jemma as she disappeared off to work and I genuinely wondered if I was doing the right thing. But she has been so supportive and understanding that those feelings soon subsided (though I’m sure they won’t totally disappear). I arrived home and started to repack and sort out my hand luggage. The Wii fit finally confirmed that my case was under the 23kg allowance but only after some shuffling of the clothes pack. The hand luggage was almost as heavy!! Think it is something to do with the 2 laptops and several books and Scott Wilson business plans. My mum’s Christmas present “Sex, Sleep or Scrabble” made it to the bag – which by the way was made for the Qantas baggage guide at exactly the maximum size of 22”x14”x9”. Having said that some of the “hand” luggage on view on the plane was surely much bigger than this.

I didn’t want to leave Jemma with pictures of us both crying so persuaded her that I should meet her for lunch as I was going into town anyway to pay a cheque into the bank and get some dollars. I’m so glad I did. We had a horrible cup of coffee in the Student Accommodation café bar but chatted easily as we always do and when she finally disappeared back to lessons we parted with a big hug and smiles which felt much better. It wasn’t quite the same at home but I didn’t expect it to be. I had a chat with Amy about her plans, exams and stuff and we cried a few more tears. Liz and Matt were outside when I packed the car and she again reassured me she would look after Amy. So many friends have said the same.

The trip down to Heathrow was remarkably incident free and smooth. That is until I actually got there. Finding a petrol station to fill up the hire car proved amazingly difficult. Where do Londoners buy their petrol? Anyway, eventually I found one and headed back to Heathrow. The car handover was painless, as was the courtesy bus transfer and I joined the queue in Section G at Terminal 3. My worst fears were realised when I finally reached the desk, to be told that I should have checked in before getting to that point and there may not even be a seat for me. I could have checked in on line apparently. A quick phone call to the check in bloke confirmed that there was a seat after all and with my Wii fit checked bag passing the weight test, I was off to departures. After a wander round I homed in on “Eat” and bought a ham, brie and cranberry baguette, crisps, carrot cake and a coffee as well as a last minute pecan slice. Well I needed filling up for the flight.

Lots more queuing later I sat myself down in cattle class, row 46 seat F. I had wondered about seat F, hoping upon hope it would be an aisle seat but knowing deep down I would be sandwiched in the middle. It turned out not to be as bad as a previous Oz flight sat next to the mammoth muslim lady who used me as a pillow for most of the journey. That was because of Martin, which is where I started this story.

As I said, Martin is a 69 year old dane. Big, white haired and full of life. He told me of his days as a US army soldier based in El Paso Texas, “join the army and see the world” was what got him there. He had also worked on the North Pole building the base there along with 12,000 others, 200 of whom were Danes. I heard all about his straw roofed house, the 70% tax rate in Denmark, his Ford Anglia’s, VW’s and the Mercedes that did over 2 million kilometres on one engine. Then there was Dave from Liverpool who got shot by the mafia in 1979 and his brother in Darwin who he was taking a couple of cans of Carlsberg for, stolen from the plane. Add to that his fish farming and tour guide exploits in Scotland and we were almost in Singapore. I may have got more sleep sat next to someone else but it would undoubtedly not have been as interesting. Before breakfast he pulled a big hardbook book out of his hand luggage and asked me to sign it for him. He reminded me a lot of Jemma’s granddad, not least because I heard most of his stories at least twice, but mostly because he was determined just to enjoy life.

Day 2 – Tuesday 19th January, most of which I missed because the clocks were racing forward.

The second leg of the journey down to Brisbane was dull in comparison, once again in seat F, but this time sandwiched between an Aussie lady on her way home from 3 weeks in Vietnam (if you get a taxi Amy make sure they are the yellow Mahlin ones) and a woman from Manchester on her way to visit her brother and sister who she hadn’t seen for 15 years. I slept a bit though and kept waking with a start imagining the whole plane had been listening to me snoring!

Day 3 – Wednesday 20th January

We landed almost bang on the scheduled arrival time of 6.50am. More queuing, first for passport control and then to get the cases through customs, and I was off to the Airtrain to the city. It was 50 cents more than the shuttle bus at $14.50, but I thought I’d treat myself to some luxury. The walk to the office wasn’t far but boy was it hot and by the time I’d dragged my luggage to the door I was dripping. Amy on reception showed me where to go and I met my Scott Wilson, Brisbane colleagues. I resisted the temptation to shower, thinking my apartment would soon be ready but it was after midday when Jodie got the call and I headed to the Oasis Apartments. Jan on reception was a friendly face and explained everything I needed to know. All I wanted was the shower. Having said that, when I walked into my room I was that shocked it took me a while to make it to the shower. The place is so big. A huge great living room with leather settee and chairs facing an enormous flat screen TV. The music system has got the i-pod docking station so I put on a playlist while I looked around. John Mayer had well finished before I’d seen everything.

I got a bus into the city for a bit of a look around and to hunt for some longer term accommodation. I think it’s going to be a bit more difficult than I hoped to find something good for anything less than $100 dollars a night. The exchange rate is certainly hurting. I had a look at a couple of apartments in the Park Regis which is between work and the CBD so handily located but that is $99 a night. The second room was nice though with a great shower – there is a theme developing here – so it may be a good fall back. I had a wander through the shopping areas and came back along the river. Brisbane is a nice place. I was getting pretty knackered by this time but determined to see it through and fight off any jet lag. I spoke to Mark when he’d finished work and then got the laptop out and tried skype for the first time. The sight of Jemma sat there in front of her pc cheered me up but also made me a bit homesick. As always with these things it didn’t work quite as well as we’d hoped and the connection went a bit loopy once or twice but it was good to talk. I’m going to miss her.

I decided to walk to the shops to stock up on food for the next few days, so headed further out of the city to Toowong. That exchange rate looks like it’s going to hurt at Woolies as well. A 5 carrier shop was a bit more than I could have done with for the long walk home, especially as I was by now falling asleep as I walked. Two slices of toast sent me off to bed and I was gone before my head hit the pillow.