Sunday 23rd August
I think I must be suffering from Frequent Flyer Disease. A few years ago, and before buying the house in France I sort of made a vow to myself that I was done with flying. Not that I particularly dislike flying, but planning no real foreign holidays and finding myself single and not having to kowtow to other’s choices, I quite liked the idea of travelling everywhere by train. And I did for a while, even making two journeys to La Rochelle by Eurostar and TGV to spend a week with my daughter’s in-laws.
Well, all of that has gone to the wind, blown away by the decision to buy the house in Eymet. For the first two years I made two or three trips during the summer but was driven there mostly. However this year, with my wife retired and opening the café, and me still working for a while in England, I was commuting two or three times a month. I still have one customer and have to come back once a month to meet them. I also try to check on the houses in England and sometimes see my parents or children and grandchildren. So, a frequent flyer I have become. And like the team flying the plane I am on auto-pilot. I am almost in a daze as I pass through Security and wait for my gate to be called. I try to lose myself in a kindle book and listen to music, trying to ignore even the safety instructions and definitely the sales pitches of the Ryanair staff, desperately trying to sell us food, drink, duty-free and even lottery tickets.
And strangely I seem to always have a headache on leaving the plane, my head feels as if it is wrapped in a very thick and heavy blanket and all I want to do is sleep. Is this a new syndrome; frequent flyer disease, or is it just me, head full of reading and music and the persistent drone of the engines. Whatever, I am glad to be back in Eymet, just in time for the Country and Western night at the pub tonight. Yee – Haa.