Day 19 of the daily post effort (I am blaming the time difference for the late entry, pathetic, I know but then again I am the boss on this site so sue me) and I finally got round to buying a notebook. After much faffing and fart-arsing about I walked into the department store opposite the new work abode and just pointed and paid. And ten minutes later (and somewhat cash poorer), voila, I was already up and running.
Amazing when you think about it. Or maybe not. It is probably just me being in awe of technology and finding that my poor brain goes into overdrive when it has to make a related decision. Nothing like the executive decision-making that takes place with work, children, school, grocery shopping, and - yes, you guessed it - laundry.
Anyway, the main reason for the push to finally put my money where my mouth is lies with my weekend soujour in another country. I will be able (in theory, I am yet to put it to the test) to truly 'blog on the go'. No more post-it notes stuck in various handbags, scribbled reminders on the back of napkins, or obscure anecdotes texted to oneself.
Free from the clutches and demands of small children, I am writing on board a Crappy-air flight with a destination that for once is very convenient, and in truth the only logic behind this option. Despite the fact that the cheap seat and the cost to actually get to Stansted does not outweigh the benefit of flying from a closer airport, the far-flung location of arrival is sufficiently near a variety of friends to ensure that at least one of them comes and collects me. Of course, I could always take a taxi but that would really make me Nobby-no-mates and the whole purpose of my visit (aside from seeing family) is to attend a Xmas dinner with my peers of years gone by.
Some observations regarding Crappy-air and those who choose to fly it:
• the interior really is the most vile shade of yellow, it would make even a canary blush - between that and the constant bombardment of vocal advertisements it just makes you want to sit on the wings for some peace and quiet (but I guess they would charge you extra for the privilege)
• the rule of 'one piece of hand luggage only' is blatantly abused, creating a whole underclass of subversives whose attempts to bring two (or more) items on board is worthy of an Olympic category - swearing at ground staff or the rest of the viewing public in general is not even an optional extra, you cannot participate unless you engage in this, persistently and loudly so everyone else can hear as well
• there are still individuals in today's well-traveled world who do not understand the 'stay seated until the sign is switched off' rule of safety, and seem to believe that provided the plane is airborne you can just get on up and have a party - even if it means defying gravity due to the angle at which the plane is climbing
• different nationalities, different herd rationale (ie locating a seat and actually taking possession of it) - for example:
• the British - mostly polite, ask "is this place taken" before stowing hand luggage and siting down promptly
• the Italians - race for the stairs, push and shove everyone aside, and then proceed to wander aimlessly up and down the aisle unable to decide where to sit
• the French - huff and puff and stomp their Laboutins when they are told (by the ground staff, the cabin crew, and eventually even the pilot) that there are no allocated seats and they will have to settle for what is still free
• the Germans - work in teams, with whomever gets on first under strict orders to bag a row (or two) for all their co-nationals
• the Irish - as long as they can get a Guinness they don't give a shit where they have to sit
• the Americans - they don't fly Crappy-air, I think O'Leary has a veto on them ever coming near his planes, let alone boarding one
Ok, a bit of liberty there with the stereotypes, but one has to keep oneself amused.