Skip to main content

Travel Made Difficult

Ah, the joys of flying. Enjoy the bracing ten minute walk from the car park to the airport.

Discover the bag you’ve measured does not fit into the little frame for acceptable cabin-sized baggage.

Be confident that you have no dangerous objects such as tweezers, razors or nail scissors. Be prepared to embrace your masculine side and spend your holiday growing big eyebrows and leg hair.

Discover that a sealed carton of non-dairy milk is considered an explosive risk in the cabin.

Pay just £6 to have your bag put in the hold but, before it goes off on the conveyor belt, unpack and re-arrange the contents in order to accommodate said milk, ignoring queue forming behind you.

Be turned back from the departure lounge because you have a sealed carton of fruit juice and a bottle of mineral water to drink in the departure lounge and during the flight, AND to bag up any small vials of perfume or cosmetics.

Return to security having eaten lunch and drunk all liquids, and roll towards the lady who gives you a thorough frisking, with stomach feeling dangerously explosive, and avoiding any sharp objects.

Escape from the loud television and be entertained by infuriating muzak THE WHOLE TIME, even in the loo, and try to not to succumb to air rage before you’ve left the airport.

But, thank heaven, on board, Keane is playing in the cabin, then the Zutons’ ‘Valerie’, and your peevish temper is soothed. The plane is only a quarter full and there is space to recover from hasty liquid lunch.

Forget any frustrations when the plane lines herself up on the runway. The pilot opens up the throttle and off she goes with a little arse wiggle before tearing forward and lifting off as softly as a kiss.

She tucks up her wheels and, below, sigh, dear old England, so beautiful where it is still green. It occurs to me as I fly over Torbay and look down on the treacherous bar stretched across the mouth of the River Teign that, with all our advancement and technology, we could just blow the damned thing up, let the river flow freely out into the wide bay. From up here those waters look so blue, so benign, so deceptive.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Running ‘till your nipples bleed

An email from a friend of mine arrives; she complains that, at work, she is routinely subjected to gruesome accounts of female colleagues’ intimate medical procedures and gynaecological problems. I am all commiseration because I, too, have had years of listening to workplace chats about periods, childbirth and sex lives. Oh please. Later, I wander off for a walk in the early evening sunshine and it is so silent and so beautiful that I flop down on the grass and lay awhile gazing out over the rolling fields, and the mouth of the river, and fall into a reverie. Two men pass by. A few minutes later sounds of women’s talk float nearer and, by the time the two females of the species draw level with me, I have risen up from my deliciously recumbent position in the meadow, alert and tense, something like a meerkat. “I do feel for her. Going down that IVF route is such an emotional roller coaster. I was never prepared for how terrible it was going to be.” I remain frozen in my meerkat position...

Ian McEwan. Amsterdam. London: QPD, 1998

McEwan’s novel about ambition, personal betrayal and revenge features Clive, a modern composer trying to complete a major orchestral work, his friend Vernon, an editor trying to save his ailing newspaper, and Garmony, an unscrupulous right-wing politician on the rise. In common, all three have, in previous years, been lovers of recently dead Molly. They meet at her funeral and the story follows the next few weeks of the men’s lives. Vernon and Clive act as one another’s conscience, each infuriating the other. Which is more important, honesty, friendship and trust or Vernon’s newspaper and Clive’s symphony? The novel presents the difficulties of balancing personal and public morality, the importance of private shame and public reputation, the conflict between taking a moral decision for the greater good, or putting first ones own desires. Not just a simple exposé of a politician with a vulnerable side, Amsterdam is full of double standards and surprises, and takes a long, cynical look a...

OLD JOY. Dir Kelly Reichardt. 2005

Dropout Kurt arrives in town and calls up his old friend, earnest father-to-be Mark to suggest a camping trip out in the forest, away from the city. They haven’t seen each other for some time and the film suggests a desire for intimacy as well as a quest for peace. Something of a lost soul, Kurt is emotional and, at times, to be pitied. He lives outside society, in a world of new age type retreats and travels, which seem to have left him out on the margins. In contrast, Mark has a home and a pregnant partner, and tunes his car radio in to phone-ins with much loud chat about the state of society in America but he seems only half alive. They drive out of town, with the camera as passenger, which gazes out of the car window while a gorgeous soundtrack by Yo La Tengo sets a mellow mood. The use of extended silence makes me a little uneasy; it’s hard to get away from memories of Deliverance, and a sense of apprehension. In the city, the glass of the car windows insulates us...