Sunday, 12 July 2015
I'm deeply confused. I appear to be on a tube heading away from Heathrow and, although I'm about ready to go to sleep, it would appear to be tomorrow!
Twelve hours ago, I was sitting by Matt's pool, having just eaten a tomato and mozzarella salad. It was baking hot. The sky was blue.
Fifteen hours ago, I was in a little cafe on Santa Monica Boulevard. A waiter had just dropped a plate, it had smashed on the floor, all the customers had shouted "hoop-la" (a bit random) and one yelled "job opening!"
The weather is overcast in London. There's a dirty, grey sky. I'm not sure I'm ready to be back!
The flight was horrifying. It was full of children. At one point they all seemed to set each other off in some kind of hell-sent chain reaction of whinging and wailing.
There was light turbulence all the way through the flight which royally freaked me out. I can't sleep in an aeroplane: the moment I drift off, I immediately wake up again rather violently. It happens as regularly as clock work.
One of the hostesses had a big arse, which meant there wasn't quite enough space for her to walk in the aisles without bumping into my elbow... Every time she passed... However far I tried to pull it in.
The same hostess made some awful noises when she spoke. She was all "if you need any help, just come and find myself or one of my colleagues." (It is a mortal sin to not understand where it's appropriate to use a reflexive pronoun.) She also threw the word "do" into every sentence "when you do leave the airport" "when you do want some duty free..." Her most perfectly awful sentence was uttered to the man behind me as we prepared for landing: "could you just recline the seat forward for me?"
Virgin Flight crew training should teach people how to use language effectively. Frankly, if you can't be bothered to talk properly, use mime.