Punctuality, as those who know me will vouch, is not one of my strengths (unless you have ever received my cv then I am punctual, systematically organised and highly capable of prioritising) however, on moving day, I surprised even myself. Bags packed, highlights done, haircut for Brad, where they tried to convince him to grow a rats tail because "they like that in Asia" and taxi booked, we were sitting in the living room with half an hour to spare. Deservedly I cracked into my first bloody Mary, our flight wasn't for 5 hours, but I'm a slightly nervous flyer, so I think this was rational.
In a blur of reminiscing we were suddenly at the airport about to check in. A minor point which I have failed to mention until now is that due to Brad being several runs up the metaphorical "career ladder" he gets to sit on a higher deck. In first class, no biggy. Being the gent (acknowledging the possible consequences) he did offer to a) upgrade me or b) sit in economy with me. Turns out Singapore airlines don't do on the spot upgrades, so being a delightful girlfriend, and highlighting that I would probably just sleep I agreed with Brad that he should enjoy his seat upstairs (LIE I obviously wanted the extra backache allowance that we got with his ticket...crafty) still racking up a commendable 30kg excess baggage (ironically brads not mine) they waved the MASSIVE fee for us. I like to this this was through pity for me aided by my slightly drunken (yet law abiding) check-in banter, Brad is adamant it was his charm and chivalry. To be honest it's probably because there were about 20 people on the flight. ...
Now I am by no means a snob, but I just have this thing about certain chain restaurants. Don't get me wrong I'm never going to say no to a pollo salad down pizza express, can always make time for a ZiZi's and always feel at home, yet still a bit on holiday in cafe rouge, finding myself forever compelled to order in a slightly French accent, so they understand...then there is McDonald's I don't care what the milkshakes are made of, they taste like dreams. But somewhere in limbo, far between the 2 safe camps lay the deceitful, faux Italian establishments that lure people in with their simple branding and low prices, also being unable to eat wheat their menus have about as much to tempt me as the Sahara. SO where better to have our London send of meal than in terminal 3s very own bar AND restaurant, family friendly. STRADA.
Brad played it safe with spag Bol. I ordered salmon, I received a deep fried fish chip, on some leaves. I rest my case...however not to be deterred by the food I spotted prosecco on the menu, this was a celebration after all. Soon all fish chip issues were rendered obsolete, and shortly it would transpire, would my composure.
On the way to the gate we spotted a little champagne bar, we had time and some notes to get rid off so had a FINAL toast to London. I don't remember getting on the plane.
...
I have this weird issue with flying, some may understand. It's not the safety bit, it's the lack of control and if I get scared I can't put my feet on the ground. Explaining this irrational panic to Brad's sister she gave me some tips from an air hostess friend:
If you hear 1 'bong': someone is asking for service
2 bongs: the staff or pilot need assistance or have a request
3 bongs: Emergency
Every double bong that echoed through the cabin I awaited the third in bated breath, this soon got boring and I relaxed. IMAGINE the terror that floods through my veins when that third bong happened. I was on my second episode of 'come fly with me' and the bong rang through my ears like church bells in a deserted town. As if in slow motion about 16 aeroplane staff scurried to the front of the plane whispering frantically. I felt sick, it was horrible and according to flight tracker, we were somewhere above Afghanistan, brilliant. The seatbelt signs hadn't come on by this point so I thought about making a break for the upper deck to be with Brad, as I was assessing my access routes a wave of relief washed towards me. The cabin crew filtered back to their zones and I reassessed the situation. Turns out someone was stuck in the loo. Still, I'm glad we all made it....thanks for the heads up on the emergency bongs Hayley.
Brad's palace
The rest of the flight was pretty drama free. Pointer, pins and needles in the sky is not necessarily deep vein thrombosis. The lovely Singapore airlines staff let me go upto first class for the last leg of the flight so we could touch down together, heros. Brad had been down to 'visit' me a few times, but it was nice to see in Singapore, sober, together.
...
So hear we are, living in our room in the holiday inn until we have our flat sorted. Day 1 has been productive, despite severe jet lag we managed to open bank accounts, find our offices which are amazingly next door to each other and I got Brad onto the metro, TWICE, this already equals my London success rate. Another day of exploring, sorting and spending shall ensue tomorrow, until then, Goodnight. (that's 'singlish' for goodnight.)
Plenty of room at the Inn
first morning view
XXX
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