Airports are energy-sucking, soul-destroying, diabetes-inducing, awful places. They combine the worst of human progress. Over zealous, unnecessary security measures. Fast food. Overpriced merchandise no one could possibly need. Lots of rules and paperwork. Fake air and fake plants.

But, in the absence of teleporting abilities or your own boat, this is how we travel. So we eat sushi rather than burgers, walk without shopping, and force a smile. Let the holiday begin.


One thought on “Airports

  1. Hey Miss D. Enjoying your blog. Sometimes travel seems like hard work. We’re enjoying 21 degrees and warm sunshine in Lismore so maybe we pinched the English summer. The palm trees are waving in the breeze and are almost as plentiful as the teenage mums with their haunted, hollow-cheeked male companions. I’ve miraculously managed to fall another three places in the footy tipping comp this week. Miraculous because i thought i was already at the bottom. Met some grey nomad cyclists in Cawongla yesterday doing a tour of the Northern Rivers. They were loaded up with enough stuff to fill a camper van but were still attacking the hills with enthusiasm. Must pack up and head back to Kyogle. Fish rissoles for dinner, gritty Glasgow crime, and a last night in Kyogle before we head to Scone. Mum is recovering well from her fall and will soon be back to her rounds of the Kyogle streets, though perhaps a little slower than before the last fall. She travels the streets of her childhood more and more in her dreams.

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