On love..

In the most sentimental entry of this blog's history I report live to you from Sydney International Airport with a few words about love (I promise next week ill get back to talking about pastry).

This later part of my 20s has been marked by the loss and gain of great love. I'm coming around to the idea that life is a constant ebb and flow. People coming in and out of your life constantly, changing little or big aspects of you. Brief encounters, people who change your outlook or perspective, people who teach you things, those who show you a path that you don't want to go down, those that shock you, those that comfort you.

But what of great, enduring love? That bit is trickier, the quest for lifelong love. That bit may require sacrifice and compromise but never ever the changing of yourself.

Today I am lucky to have that perfect luxury, the enduring love of friendship, that higher order kind of love that doesn't judge or anger but rather supports, nurtures and changes you into the person that you were meant to become.

So to all those that I love dearly. I am grateful daily to you all for changing my life. I'm so happy to be part of your world.

So wherever you are reading this, on the train, at work (naughty), over toast and tea or wine and steak. Take a moment to be grateful for those you love because its these small moments of gratitude that form the beautiful patchwork quilt that is your life.

So with love, thanks and in the search for the perfect cheese toastie.

Goodbye for now Sydney.

Secret Diary of a Long Haul Girl

I worked out today that I have endured 11 long haul flights in the last 5 years. All of which to Australia. I don't want to count up how much money that is but i'm pretty sure it's a nice deposit on a house. But hey, who cares, the words 'getting a foot on the property ladder' make me physically shudder.

What is do know is that's around 12 whole days spent in the air eating plane food, having juice and water brought to my seat and catching up on a years worth of free movies.

Today hovering somewhere outside Singapore was no exception. Long haul flights are both the bain and the favourite part of my life. I often liken them to how I imagine childbirth, the sweet joy of arriving at your destination means that you conveniently forget about the pain.

I have now endured enough long hauls to feel qualified to summarise them into a few key stages.

Arrival at the airport: Freshly showered, either beaming with excitement for the possibilities ahead or mildly sobbing after saying goodbye to good friends. The prospect of the food court always makes my eyes dance with excitement

1 hour later: This is the time I like to call 'disappointment that I didn't get upgraded'. Are flight upgrades an urban myth? I sure as hell have never had one. Also, why do some people have 4 suitcases and boxes containing strange things? Today a man had 4 boxes of cherries. Is that legal?

Boarding leg 1: The sinking feeling sets in as you realise that your obscurely timed flight that you assumed would be empty is completely full which invariably means that you run the risk of being stuck in the dreaded of all seats...the middle of a 4 seater. Is there anything worse in life than that seat? You walk past 1st class and business with a pained smile, everybody hates people who fly business. I also hate the extra leg room people, they always look so smug and DVT free. Also the ones who get the front row with the TVs mounted on the walls, they are always reserved for kids. Why should my sexy childless legs suffer for my life choices thus far? Ok fine, maybe a child does take up more room than my laptop

1 hour in: This is the point where you wonder why you always think long haul is so bad. This is amazing, peanuts, can of coke with lots of ice, meal being served and you've picked from the nice menu, you are halfway through a romantic comedy, you got a window seat and the sun is shining. This isn't so bad

Post meal: Mmmm more tea please, why do I always think plane meals are so bad and how do they get the veggies to be so delicious and buttery and the bread a little crisp? Mmm...

4 hours in: Ok so i've seen 2 films and i'm tossing up whether to watch some rubbish that i've seen a dozen times or to peruse their terrible selection of TV. Could I bring myself to watch 'How I met your mother'? What is that show even about? Also while we are at it, why is the Big Bang Theory now so popular? People I love and respect seem to like it, odd. It's getting dark out and everyone seems to be sleeping. I've already lost track of the day and time.

6 hours in: Ugh my suprachiasmatic nucleus says it's morning and they are serving me noodles in 30 minutes. At least I get some more of that nice warm bread

Halfway: I shouldn't have had that 30 minute sleep just before landing, now my body wants to sleep but my brain knows that I am going to have to engage my brain to find the gate at Bangkok airport. Why do I have to go through security again? Why is my secret stash of water always confiscated? After 20 or more years of being told to drink more water i'm suddenly being punished my the hydration police. The war is out there, leave my Mountain Spring alone.

Can't beat a good sunrise

At gate: Ugh what day is it? Surely I haven't still got 12 hours to go? On the plus side I live for the following: free internet (everybody is invariably checking Facebook, including me..what have we become?), those elusive loungers that you have to wrestle a child to get, a hazy sunrise or sunset, the almost alarmingly clean toilets, the serenity and the unfamiliar languages, mulling over whether to go for some traditional breakfast congee with the locals but always going to McDonalds for a sausage and egg McMuffin, entertaining the fantasy of becoming a spontaneous extremist and jumping on a flight to some remote Thai island.

1 hour into leg 2: Ok this is getting a bit painful, the aforementioned cute menu is no longer appealing, the smell of this bread is making me feel ill, this seat is way worse than the last one why didn't I sleep instead of watching 'What's Your Number?'. It wasn't Anna Faris' finest hour. I have no idea what day it is. Time for Tetris

5 hours into leg 2: I hate my life, I hate these seats, I hate the people next to me, there is a very real possibility that is somebody offers one of those horrible bread rolls then I might throw up. I hate everyone who is peacefully asleep. I wish I had managed to get a boyfriend mainly because putting my feet up on him right now would be amazing. How do some people look so fresh? I've never realised how bad my skin was before. I am never getting off this plane. How can there be 6 more hours to go?

2 hours until landing: Ha! In your face sleeping people! I too got some sleep, albeit broken and unsatisfying. I feel like I've spent 5 days in the same spot. I would sell my cookbook collection for a shower and a teeth clean. I have consumed 4 bottles of water and my mouth is still dry, why are these breakfast sausages so weird and oddly delicious? How do they get the omelettes perfect every time?

Arrival: Yes! I'm off the plane! I made it! Isn't life wonderful, oh the customs queue. Mental note must get one of those weird new passports. Oh it's good to be home, i'm never doing this again. I wonder when I can get back to Australia?

I hate long haul
Ps- I love you

Disclaimer: This post was written whilst heavily under the influence of Carol King's Tapastry somewhere near Singapore. 15 hours until landing