Big grab bag of memories on my long journey home
A CONCERNED mum watches the kids play on a trolley, tears flow as lovers say farewell, a man behind me says to a friend, “happy travels”, and I gaze into the confusion that is the departures lounge at an international terminal.
I’m happy to have actually made it after battling unforgiving cobblestones, as I pushed my two suitcases through the suburb of Nuhavn, Copenhagen.
I think luggage needs inflatable wheels for places such as this, when I had to shove it for about 30 minutes through a wall of camera kissing tourists, dodge cyclists on warp drive, and bus driving bandits obviously trying to escape from a bank job.
I made it to the metro, bought the ticket, then took the lift to the wrong floor. I knew I had to do something silly.
Back to the sort of original story, languishing with luggage, even a little motor would be nice, but no luggage would be even better. Maybe disposable clothes, no worrying about taking home dirty socks and underwear that could easily cause another Chernobyl, take thongs not shoes, and no pressies.
But we all love bringing home pressies. Keeps us in the good books, and, of course, T- shirts don’t break. And as my Barb says “jewellery is small”, just terrific. Though I have bought some Christmas decorations as I always do. Glass balls … I must be mad.
Hang on, I just saw a young bloke with his backpack tied to his skateboard, and towing it with a rope. Clever. None of this is what I’d planned meticulously to talk to you about, so I may as well keep making it up as I go.
When you’re on the long road home, the complication of check- in is over, and the thousands of people become no body as you drift into memories of what has been; I guess that’s where I am now.
I know my girl has had many ask her why she didn’t come. Simply, it’s just not her. It’s a 10- day expedition in the freezing cold on a boat, then in inflatable boats, there are birds, and so much more, and there’s no Zara or H& M. You just cannot force a place on someone. It’s a unique journey I’d always wanted to do, I won’t get another chance, and I’m fortunate she was so supportive, but I was away too long.
This will make you laugh, fellas. I just got a text through, “Can you buy me some Alien perfume, if it’s cheap ( there’s is no cheap perfume, this actually means, buy it no matter what the cost, you went without me) or a bottle of Ferragamo Signorina ( I’m sure you know it, boys), the one that smells like pomegranate”. I’ll have to put down my glass of bee … cup of tea and find it.
I’ll let you know next week if I find any of the Close Encounters of the Third Kind perfume, or the Ferrit ballerina, perfume that smells like Pommies.