The blankness of my tiny little mind

unfortunately prevents me from thinking up a better title than that. This post however will concern my flight from the UK to the land of Tasmania - anyone who finds me a little bizarre or strange when it comes to reading these may want to stop now because I've been up for a long time since the last time I wrote and that was weird enough.

So it all began on Monday, except of course for the weekend of packing, saying good bye and a valuable trip to the Na-na's of poo. Thanks to everyone who was nice to me over that time.

So Monday morning I get up, apparently I'm having lunch with my dad, going to school to see my mum, going to winchester to see my gran and then leaving to get to the airport by 3 o clock. Checking my diary it appears that I hadn't planned for any of these things and so I rapidly repack my bags, go to the post office, buy a new watch and prepare for some craziness.

All of which was nice and completely normal.

On arrival at Gatwick I am informed by my dad that there is a chapel there (which was very thoughtful of him and I'd never have found it if I wasn't looking hard for it). So I decide to take a few moments of precious solitude. Or so I thought. I expect that it was punishment for cheating the baggage check people when they forgot to weigh one of my pieces of hand luggage and i neglected to mention it to them, but as I walk into said chapel I notice a lovely old lady sat across the room. I pick up a bible, am surprised to find several other non-christian texts in the catholic chapel (maybe there wasn't a big C?), and go to sit down. At this point I assume that said lady is praying out loud as I become aware of a sort of persistant murmuring - the sort of sound a hamster chewing through wood might make. So I look over at her and smile.
And then life goes funny.
She stares. Raises her right hand. And very agressively gives me what from my rock and roll background appears very much to be the pagan sign for warding off the devil.
I am a little surprised.
So she continues and I catch the following:
blah blah blah....contamination.......sinners.....people out there.....something something something.....you are the devil....he's the devil......(at this point I check just in case I've grown a tail and some horns, but apparently not)......that's it I'm leaving I can't stand even being in the same room as this filth, contammmmmination.....[she stands and starts to leave]....good bye satan...[exit].

As she leaves the room and she glares through the glass at me I do the only thing I can think of.
I smile and wave.

Then said lady tries to get me arrested for following her around the airport (which is almost true because I thought it could be fun).

I get searched for looking suspicious and asked if I'm carrying weaponry - I think it was because I was the only person smiling and being nice to the security people. I wander around for ages, turns out Gatwick is a bit rubbish and play naff music. We get on the plane, I'm sitting between Ben (aka the man bear, possible problem with showering, definite problem with the english language) and Nicky (aka I'm quite attractive but not really interested in acknowledging your presence so please don't even try to speak to me). To my joy the mad woman walks onto the plane screams at some poor unsuspecting man who is in her way for more than 2 seconds and then takes a seat somewhere too far away for me to drop by and say hello.

Planes flies, it's hot. It's longer than I thought was possible for a mere 7 hours. It is probably what will happen when people get consigned to hell - ie they'll be piled onto a similar flight.

By the time I reach Abu Dhabi I'm ready to go mad - partly also because it's 5 am with an outside temperature of 16 degrees. Fortunately someone has designed the terminal there with something between the ritz and a horse-racing course in mind and so I am so overwhelmed that I forget how rough I feel. The bathrooms are marble (complete with courtesy mosque, Ralph and Joy would have been having a field day with my life) and very nice. Investigating my state of mind I discover that brain functions are high, I'm unsure if it's 5am or 11:30 but stuck in a slight mental rut and unable to rid myself of 1 line repititions from a sample of some very annoying songs (mostly picked up from the awful choral renditions of famous musical songs played on panpipes at Gatwick terminal). Alas also anything I hear goes through my mind over and over so I spend 5 minutes hearing the announcement for our boarding pass. As punishment for this I decide that I will steal everythign I can from the plane including the inflight blanket and pillow - I later decided that the pillow wasn't worth it.

It is with some horror that I re-board the plane, but to my joy the girl next to me has purchased a bottle of jack daniels and consumes quite a lot of it so that she becomes instantly more likeable and friendly. We spend a significantly more pleasant 8 hours flying to Singapore during which I think I slept for an hour or two. Ben has now managed to say approximately 15 words - an impressive rate of almost one an hour.

.....and so dinner time is upon us, after which begins a week of 15 hour days doing youthwork. Suffice to say that Singapore is amazing but curiously full of 15 foot water features and more space than I've ever seen in any one place. The people are nice, crazy woman has disappeared (the poor muslims). Sydney is horrible, everyone is miserable, it's 6 am and 22 degrees, I get searched again, discover the buggers have lost half my luggage, discover that the airport transfer will cost me 5 dollars (cheapskates that they are), discover something around 2000 australians, no information people and only 1 cash machine - what are they playing at? And then like the holy grail appearing I rounded a corner and found a krispy Kreme store. A dash for the cash machine got me a breakfast doughnut, airport transfer, macdonalds (sorry Dan) and a lovely 3 hours in the Virgin blue room (executive lounge) - within which I tried my 'I'm British, love me' routine and got 2 towels to have a shower and free drinks. With 2 dollars to spare and a conversion rate that meant I'd spent less than 8 pounds I felt better.

Another hour of flying and an overly friendly Beagle (Tasmania's version of airport security) and I was home free. Sunshine and 18 degrees, 27 + 1/2 hours of flying, up since Monday morning - I felt great. Until 8:07 when suddenly my body stopped working.

Which leaves me with only the question: why does my roomate Kemar feel it necessary to get up at half past 5 in the morning and do press-ups, and why can't he do anything quietly? Should I appear on tv wanted for serial murder you'll know why.

Oh, and my first meal in Poatina:
"Do you guys need lunch?"
"Yes please"
"Do you eat meat?"
"Yes. But not fish"
"What?"
"Oh nevermind, anyway what's the likelihood that it's fish?"
"Pretty low I'd think"
"Yeah"

Lunch: Tuna pasta.