Wow. When did flights go from being “oh the hassle of travelling and pure boredom” to “omg, i have 7 hours to delightedly do nothing, and just watch TV and sit and reflect YAYY!”, to “oh why is it only 7 hours long, this is the longest stretch i’ve EVER gone without working!”….
The flight was good y’all, but in true Sharon travel style, I got stuck between two whisky drinking (and hence, smelling) men, and by the way, why DO men think it’s ok to sit with their legs wide open so that the girl in the middle has to crouch, still and unmoving lest she brushes against their knees, in the absolute middle of her chair?
Had forgotten how pleasant Singapore Air was – and had definitely forgotten the feeling of landing in a country so efficient, so clean, so gloriously warm, and so assuredly home. It has clearly been way too long.
So i get in, check on dad, realize to my horror my room is MORE of a store room now and certainly LESS in “someone lives here” condition – the shower glass door is OFF its hinges. So offensive. Clearly the return of the prodigal daughter was not one that was highly expected.
The loveliest thing about being home though? Being comfortable and looked after. My suitcase disappears – it’s already been taken upstairs. Cup of milo appears. Sitting in MY bed, in MY room, with its familiar dimensions, palm trees overhanging the windows, and then, like the icing on a yummy cake, Mummy walks in with a tray of coffee and kaya toast, as a welcome home breakfast in bed.
I had really forgotten what this was like.