... and I'm proud

Now, where was I? Ah, the airport. What a surprise.

I wasn't actually going to post anything interesting so in some respects it's good that the plane began boarding just as I logged on. Probably saved you all from having to read even more twaddle. It was two weeks ago anyway so I was probably going to babble on excitedly about my then-news about Bangladesh. I'm now less excited about it so will just say that it's likely I'll be off there late May.

The journey home:

Well I had reserved aisle seats on both flights so naturally I was given blank stares and "Sorry sir no aisle seats available" at the checkin desk. Did I say I liked Emirates? That's now in doubt. I spent the first flight sandwiched between an overweight Aussie who couldn't give up his armrest without major surgery and an injection of manners, and a young Nigerian guy who apparently dreamed he was in a marathon break-dancing competition, and also had no concept of personal space, boundaries, molestation etcetera. Six hours of this had me in a light and airy mood for my arrival at Dubai airport, which as I've mentioned before was designed exclusively for those who never go to the toilet. I hate the place because, like most people, I go to the toilet quite often. In my opinion the airport is flawed. I can almost hear how the conversation went at the design meeting -

"Hmm now then, toilets or no toilets?"

"Well, how many people are we talking?"

"Oh about two million a day."

"Ok that's a lot. Build two traps, that should cover it."

"Good plan, Sheikh"

"Oh, and hide them"

"Righto"

I made damned sure I hogged the armrests on the second flight, which was otherwise uneventful.

The (busman's) holiday:

It was lovely to be in Derbyshire in springtime. I spent most of the time working but did manage one bike ride over to Chapel and back via Hayfield. Beautiful.

I had a birthday while I was home. A quiet affair with a few friends around for dinner. It was nice, and I was given two chocolate cakes. I'll say it again - there is no finer thing than chocolate.

Speaking of presents, my new Casio "Wave Ceptor" watch is ace. Never wrong, imagine that. Except when I'm outside Europe of course, then it's as wrong as any quartz watch - which is very wrong. Watches tell us the time with such conviction that sometimes it's just too easy to take them at face value, so to speak. I've lost count of the number of people who've told me how their watches are deadly accurate, a conviction which crumbles quickly under the simplest of tests, ie dialling 123. I love it, pedant that I am, and it's an effort not to keep ringing the speaking clock just to check it hasn't drifted by half a second. This gets wifey very angry, which is a bonus.

In other news, we took a drive over to St Helens to see the enormous "Dream" sculpture which has appeared on a hill adjacent to the M62. I took some pics:

It's a stunning piece of sculpture, very thought-provoking and quite beautiful, even if from a distance it looks like a giant knob. Oops, did I say that? I only meant to think it. I do hope the locals don't spray gafitti all over the thing. Here's some info on the work: http://www.culture24.org.uk/art/live+art/public+art/art66988

In yet more news, we took a spade and a plastic bag to the riverside (they loved it, guffaw), with the intention of photographing a bit of field, then digging up a clod and bringing it back to photograph again in the studio. If you're wondering why, ask the artist. I'm just the spade-carrier. Anyway, we got our clod and were sloping off back to the car...


... when we met the Burtons, who assured us that the Police had been there the night before... looking for people with spades and bags. It seems the riverside is an ideal place for burying and retreiving illegal drugs. Good job we didn't wait till nightfall - imagine trying to explain.

What else happened? Let me think...ah, I had a lovely drum lesson (thanks Michael if you're reading) and found out how little progress I've made since coming here. This time I've brought a full-on electronic practice pad to the platform, but dunno if I'll get time to play. Need to borrow a PP3 if I want it to work anyway. That's a battery, for our younger readers.

On No.1 daughter's advice I've started reading Steven Erikson's "Malazan" epic fantasy series. However since I've been jet lagged every day since buying the first volume, I'm only about ten pages in. Review to follow. I've now read all of Iain M Banks' sci fi stuff and I'll continue with his "normal" novels soon. Then there's Bill Bryson to read. Gosh where will I find the time?

The Journey Back:

..was uneventful. I landed in Bangkok at 6.30 pm, got to my apartment (hello drums) at 7.30 pm, went to bed at 9 pm and got up again at 4 am for a chopper flight. This was two days ago and I'm still having "senior moments". Today I woke up with such a start from a vivid daydream (lyn fell out of a plane) that everybody in the office laughed at me. I was mortified and terrified simultaneously.

Sundry other items:

Had an email today from sirsir, saying the Bangladesh trip is 90% going ahead and he recommends I take a week off between platform(here) and gasplant(there). That's me booking a flight home then. Hurrah! Barring any objections from the other team members, that means I'll get to see wifey's end-of-year exhibition. Fingers crossed.

My motorcylce was exactly where I left it.

Ditto my drums (sob)

I'm staying on the Millenium this trip, which means there's actually a chance of seasickness if the weather deteriorates. So far so good, in fact last night I couldn't feel any movement at all. Mind you, I was comatose ten seconds after closing my book. Staying on "The barge" means I get to meander around the lower decks of the structure. I'll do a journey-to-work video tomorrow.

Speaking of video, I did a pastiche of bits including the chopper taking off from the main platform helipad, but it was boring to watch so I didn't bother uploading it. It's not like you haven't seen a chopper before is it?

Be good...