There's no place like home.
This entry is for Beth, who would attack me with finger puppets if I didn't write anything here anymore.
It's a miracle I got home, considering my taxi driver in Cape Town kept repeating how he had never been to the airport before (he seemed remarkably proud about it). I arrived at The World's Worst Airport(TM) in Qatar at midnight and was surprised to find it was still 30 degrees outside... it was a miracle I caught my connecting flight at all. I stood around in a tired, confused daze and spent about an hour in duty free there getting high on perfume fumes.
25 hours after my journey began I was met by the welcoming committee at Heathrow... so good to see everyone again. Now I'm in danger of feeling like I never left, but as I still look at every car and house and think how fancy it is I think I still need a bit more time to get used to everything. I understand now that my feet hurt a bit because they've not worn any shoes for the past couple of months, and that the house feels empty because I'm used to having so many people around and sharing my time with them. And I really do miss them. I miss being in Africa.
Still, I have found things to do. Boredom has driven me to it. For example, I cleaned out the inside of my car completely and decided that I can't drive anywhere without a tin of cherry drops on the dashboard so I always have something to eat. I tried (and not quite managed to) tidy my room. Worst of all I tried to attack the nightmare that is completing my forms for student finance today. After being out of education for quite a while the long confusing words gave me a considerable headache.
There are definitely good things about being home though, like seeing the family, getting accosted by Beth on the streets of Bath (she wasn't expecting to see me) and watching the mighty Coaster play at the Black Cat. People will soon be coming home from uni. I also got a message through from Madrid saying 'When are you coming back?'
Now there's a question...
xXx
It's a miracle I got home, considering my taxi driver in Cape Town kept repeating how he had never been to the airport before (he seemed remarkably proud about it). I arrived at The World's Worst Airport(TM) in Qatar at midnight and was surprised to find it was still 30 degrees outside... it was a miracle I caught my connecting flight at all. I stood around in a tired, confused daze and spent about an hour in duty free there getting high on perfume fumes.
25 hours after my journey began I was met by the welcoming committee at Heathrow... so good to see everyone again. Now I'm in danger of feeling like I never left, but as I still look at every car and house and think how fancy it is I think I still need a bit more time to get used to everything. I understand now that my feet hurt a bit because they've not worn any shoes for the past couple of months, and that the house feels empty because I'm used to having so many people around and sharing my time with them. And I really do miss them. I miss being in Africa.
Still, I have found things to do. Boredom has driven me to it. For example, I cleaned out the inside of my car completely and decided that I can't drive anywhere without a tin of cherry drops on the dashboard so I always have something to eat. I tried (and not quite managed to) tidy my room. Worst of all I tried to attack the nightmare that is completing my forms for student finance today. After being out of education for quite a while the long confusing words gave me a considerable headache.
There are definitely good things about being home though, like seeing the family, getting accosted by Beth on the streets of Bath (she wasn't expecting to see me) and watching the mighty Coaster play at the Black Cat. People will soon be coming home from uni. I also got a message through from Madrid saying 'When are you coming back?'
Now there's a question...
xXx