Airport Departure Lounges

Tuesday 30thJuly

Well.just a short visit this time. Four days in all, but very good.  The weather was hot and sunny, and even yesterday; overcast with occasional showers was still bright warm and sunny in between.  Lots done, put up the IKEA chest of drawers in the garden room, painted most of front window and outside the front door, erected the swimming pool.  Yes, we now have a swimming pool.  Well, it is 8 foot in diameter and 21 inches deep, but still very relaxing and cooling.  Hopefully it will be as easy to empty and dismantle in five weeks time.  I will be back out twice more this summer; in nine days with my parents, and then at the end of August for eight days.

But sitting in the airport departure lounge is always a tad depressing.  Not only leaving the sunshine behind, but the dogs and the house too.  And France of course; the most irritating and yet wonderful country.  The only relative I can be certain of was Great Grandma Allard, and the Allards are supposed to have come from France, so I like to think I am returning to my roots, though in reality we are all so mixed-up that very few people, especially in Europe, can be sure where they came from originally.

But aren’t airport departure lounges depressing places.  Stanstead with its duty-free shops, food outlets and endless opportunities for boredom relief, which in their turn become even more boring; Bergerac, which is little more than a tin shed has a couple of vending machines and nothing else; I am not sure which is more depressing.  So lock yourself into your MP3 player, write your blog and wait.  That’s all you can do.