Nine and a bit hours locked in a metal box

I don't dislike flying.  I don't actively enjoy it.  I guess I just find it a bit boring and quite quickly descend into staring out of the window in the hope that something interesting happens.  Although about the greatest chance of seeing excitement out of the window is if an engine catches fire or something.  Which I don't really want to see.

And so yesterday, I flew across the Atlantic. To here.  Vancouver.

The journey over went quite quickly.  I actually got talking to my seat neighbours on the plane. Well talked at by one of them.  She was drinking a lot of Baileys.  She put it in her tea (yes tea, not coffee) and over the icecream they bring you in the middle of the flight.

Over the years, I've morphed from one of those people who try to take everything onto the plane to avoid the baggage wait into someone who checks in as much as humanly possible.  I didn't even take a coat onto the plane.  Just a few books.  And a copy of the Guardian for the crossword.  Who knew there were so many Prime Minister's names I couldn't recall..?

I watched a bit of TV too.  I watched Gravity. In French.  I thought it'd force me to concentrate a little harder and pass the time quicker.  Which actually it did.  And I watched some comedy. "Kings Of Comedy" from the Montreal comedy festival.  All men, obviously.  Apparently woman aren't funny. Or something. But I guess if you call your show "Kings Of Comedy" you're petty much setting out your stall on that issue, aren't you?

I also watched Dragons' Den. The Canadian version.  Someone came on with a lovebird which rips up paper.  She then uses the shredded paper to make pictures which she scans onto cards and sells for $5 a go.  And she got an investment.  Really.  And the lovebird flew into the studio lighting rig and had to be coaxed down from a big ladder.  Really.

Popular posts from this blog


A book I didn’t like

Loosing the shackles around my data