Sundays and airports

There is something peaceful about a Sunday morning. Lying in bed being lazy, fantasizing, making up stories, daydreaming, reading, cuddling the cat if she has been allowed in my chambers, even book ideas come wandering into my head. Sometimes I fold the soft duvet under my head, and lie there watching the sky, the clouds floating by, and the birds as they glide in their beautiful formations. Yes, it’s peaceful.

My friend Janne and I watched the film “Love actually” about a week ago. I really like that film, as it conveys love in so many forms and ways. In addition it shows us that if we just take the time to look, love is actually all around. But it shows the sensitivity and soreness of being in love and being human too.

This reminds me about airports. There is something truly great about airports. So many different people going places, everyone has their story to tell. Imagine the possible stories to be unfolded, secrets to be revealed, and the inspirations to be found in such a place. Really looking at people, examining them, trying to figure them out, seeing their faces as they say goodbye to a loved one. Seeing them pretending to be doing something, when in reality they are just waiting, like everybody else. Noticing children crying from fatigue, and seeing their parents being embarrassed or upset by their screams. Women with their tiny handbags, going through them for the umpteenth time to see if the content has changed within the last five seconds. Businessmen with their briefcases talking on the mobile, looking awfully important and busy. The best part of an airport must be the entrance hall. Oh the faces of people when they experience the joy of meeting someone again. It’s fantastic!

I have been the one coming home after being away for a long time. In 1997 I came home from 11 months in Ireland. During that time I hadn’t been outside Ireland at all… The anticipation I felt when going through the customs… And when I rounded the corner and saw my parents’ faces and my friends’ as well, jaysis, there’s happiness for you! I cried like a baby! It was a stunning moment. It wasn’t all that stunning when I in 1994 left for Ireland for the first time. At the age of 20 I was going to live with an unknown family in a strange country. I cried then as well, but that was over sheer separation anxiety. Gosh, was I scared! But it turned out fab, didn’t it! I will never regret going. The only problem with doing such a thing is the danger of becoming extremely attached to the people you meet, and also to the place where you live. That’s my problem. I miss it a lot. But once I start earning money, I can go back from time to time, and that will help.

I just wanted to show a picture of this beach nearby. Ok, that is my ex, but this was one of the best pictures of the beach that I had. I spent many hours here during the summers growing up.



Who’s your tomboy!? This is actually me… I totally look like a boy on this one. I was down with the mumps here, so that’s why I look so miserable and my cheek is so “fat”.


Take care!

Monsoon :-)