In the Air

It all started on the wrong foot. Ryanair is a robust test for one’s sanity. It all starts off as a free ride and ends up costing over £100. A paper cup of tea is £3 and there is no peace en route as the attendants are selling something new every few minutes, in a language that I think is my own but I’m not sure. I will have a hearing check after Christmas. Above the clouds my hungry eyes squint and draw,squint and draw on the long lost pleasure of brightness.
Good job I took my own lunch; smoked salmon sandwiches and a home made Welsh cake went down well over Portugal. With cup-a-soup at £4 I think that was a good move. I thought there was something really vulgar about the whole set up, from the cabin crew that looked as if they were out for rent between shifts, to the 2010 crew calender featuring a selection of near naked attendants kneeling on dirty beaches with tufts of marram grass sticking up their arses. But I have to say Ryanair gets you there on time. In my case early-there and back.
But the days of cheap flights are numbered. Even as I flew I vowed not to do cheap again. I’m calling time on cheap fares as I have for years called time on cheap meat.
I love to travel and get excited by the feeling of height. I watch the world draw away and observe a sense of planetary watch. It’s a miracle I can look. For so many years the pleasures of flight were scuppered by fear: fear of heights, fear of death. Along with fear of spiders and fear of men, all gone. Thanks to Dr Henck I am now in the moment and open to its miracles. On that flight I thought, not of meeting Giles, but of soaking up vitamin D and how my eyes longed to rest on the yellows and reds of the spices and the blues and pinks of the paint pigments. Take me to the Kasbah I thought. Give me fragrant food, sandstone walls and orange trees to walk under, even in busy streets. Sugar and honey and a handsome, interesting man to walk beside. No canoodling allowed on the streets of Marrakech remember Allie. The flight passed quickly as I played Elvis on my shuffle, my attention caught as always by ‘The Fair’s Moving On’. Was this precognition at work?

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