(Sorry, folks, no photographs today [lots coming]. Just read, close your eyes, and imagine yourself in a big, silver bird flying off to the place of your dreams and you will have all the images you need.)
Wow, I can’t believe it: here we are ready to head off to wonderful France again. It’s been France, Hong Kong, and now we get to revisit the place we so fell in love with.
Right
from the start we knew this trip would be interesting. Instead of the usual
hanging around, hanging around, drinking over-priced coffee or (much cheaper)
booze at the airport, we got chatting to a couple of men from Scotland. One of
them, a middle-aged bloke, works in the offshore industry and had been out here
in Western Australia for a while on business. He had really enjoyed himself but
was looking forward to getting home to family and friends. The other, a young guy, will stay in my memory for ever, I think, because I felt so
incredibly sad for him. He was ex-British Army. He had served his time in the forces,
including a total of 11 months in Afghanistan. Once demobbed, with money he had
saved over a few years, he make a dream come true and bought his ticket to
Australia. He would spend 12 months Down Under, learning to surf, seeing the
outback, sleeping under the stars near Ayres Rock, hopefully meeting lots of
lovely tanned, blonde Aussie girls. After only being here a week, he received a
phone call last Thursday from the Department of Defence, recalling him to
active service. Of course, as I know from personal experience, he would have
been on the A-reserve for a while and liable to be called up, but here was this
lovely young guy whose life dream had just been totally shattered. He told us
that he would be flying into London and reporting for duty, getting kitted out
etc. He had been told that he would be shipping out to Afghanistan again within
three days. He had also served in Iraq and said he considered Iraq a holiday compared
to Afghanistan; he hated that place and called it a part of hell. I wanted to
give him a hug. I did say a little prayer for his safety. I think of him often,
still mention him in my prayers, and just hope he got through okay. “Okay” is
relative, though, isn’t it. Meeting him really made me realise again how
incredibly lucky we are, and how uncertain is life – so enjoy it when you can.
Ah,
back to lighter things. On the plane we were seated next to a fascinating
woman, an Italian lady who has lived in the UK, Australia, Switzerland and
France. She now lives back in Italy, where she and her husband run a school in
Bologna. I didn’t ask why she had been here, but imagine she had been visiting
friends or family. Seated next to her was a young Anglo-Indian Australian guy
who was on his way to England to meet up with friends living in London. His
plan was that he and his mates would then spend four months touring around the
Continent. This lovely Italian lady gave him her card, invited him and his
friends to come visit with them in Bologna, and ensured him that she would make
sure she lined up some young people she knows to show them around and make sure
they have a great time in that part of Italy. I was really struck by such warm,
and obviously very genuine, hospitality and generosity of spirit.
The
young soldier; the middle-aged lady. Somehow an incredibly human start to a
holiday.
At Singapore Airport we freshened up, had a great coffee and cake in one of the many cafes, and then boarded our Air France flight to Paris. On this trip we flew
mixed class – Qantas economy to and from Singapore and then Air France business
Singapore/Paris/Singapore. Economy is fine for the short five hour flight up to
Singers, but it was fantastic to move to the AF 777 business class. The seats
were comfortable in the extreme, the flight attendants were – of course –
gorgeous, and the food was absolutely superb. Oh, oh, oh, I salivate just
thinking about it.
I
was struck, though, that most of the movies which had been on offer on the
Qantas flight were also amongst the selection on Air France, and I fully
intended to enjoy a couple of them. So, fully replete after a meal of pate de fois gras, chicken cooked in a cream
sauce to die for, melon sorbet, cheese, port and coffee, I eased back in my
seat, donned my headset, and watched a fabulous movie, “The Bank”, while
sipping on a fantastic Bordeaux and nibbling the finest of chocolate.
Does
it get any better? Possibly, but this will do me just fine.
See
you tomorrow in Paris.
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