Edinburgh, Aberdeen and now London, 3 cities in 1 day. I have literally been on more or less every mode of transport today. Ahhhhh the glamour of work related travel. It’s not all what is made up to be; yet it can be fun depending on who you’re with and what you’re doing. However today I’m flying solo and my trip is purely business.
At the Airport this afternoon, while sat waiting for my plane to arrive I remembered how I used to have big plans for international travel. My visions as a younger me were based mainly on travelling to exotic and far away destinations where I would enjoy a lavish existence, sampling the local delights, meeting interesting people and living in the lap of luxury. Who wouldn’t eh?
Life didn’t quite work out that way but I have travelled, a bit, but not nearly as much as I would have liked to. It took me until my mid thirties before I ventured to New York on my own, yes on my very own.
I didn’t do the backpacking thing and take a year out. I took the work like a loony route and even when I had my son, I only managed to take 3 months off before I quickly returning to work. Money was the main driver in that situation but even when younger and I suppose had the chance, I never really took the time out from work and ventured that far, thus scuppering my high desires of being an international traveller. I know, even if I could turn the clock back, I’d never be a rucksack on your back kind of person. But I would like to experience more luxury!
My grandmother always said “why have cotton when you can have silk” and for whatever reason that statement has always remained with me. Yes why not have silk if you can?
As I sat this afternoon amongst the oil and gas men on the plane, no doubt all of them used to experiencing silk rather than cotton, I notice a little old lady struggle with her bag coming up the aisle. Her bag literally was big enough to carry her whole, and still throw a few extra items in for good measure. I wonder how on earth did they let her get on the plane with such a big bag? Never mind, how on earth did she have the strength to carry it?
And as all the men watched her struggle, some sniggered, some pointed and it became apparent that none of them were going to offer a helping hand.
The stewardesses have encouraged us to fasten our seatbelts, the overhead lockers have been slammed firmly shut and they are about to embark on the safety demonstration.
I’m squashed in next to the window and look over at my fellow traveller as he adjusts his level of comfort in the leather seats. There is no inclination to move from his buckled in belly. He just continued to watch on.
So I decided to take action, the poor lady had sweat beading on her nose and forehead, panting for breath she smiled as she relaised that I now had taken her bag from her very old hands and I quickly helped her to her seat.
I lifted the heavier than expected bag into the overhead locker and sat down as the stewardess was fuming with me, her feet bounding down the now empty aisle, no doubt to give me a row for not being buckled in. I moved quickly and smiled, the last thing I wanted was a scene.
I quickly got back in my seat and the big-bellied bloke beside me said, “That was kind of you”
“Mmmm” I said flicking through the in-flight magazine “maybe there should be more of us out there?”
Needless to say he never spoke for the rest of the journey.
As the plane took off and left the Granite City behind, I also decided to leave my disgust floating in the jet stream of the plane, in no mans land caught between the heavens and earth.
At 6.45pm this evening, after my 7th mode of transport, the tube, I arrive at my final destination.
I’m resolute in my thinking that silk can be far better than cotton. But if you loose your common decency and your ability to provide a helping hand when needed, then I ask, what is the point?
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