March 8th, 1989
When I spotted Lee at the far end of the platform this morning, I made my way towards him, through the zombies in trench coats. As usual, Lee was holding his briefcase, with a copy of the Financial Times tucked under his arm.
“Morning Karen, nice to see you,” he said, with the slightest hint of a smile.
“Have you been ill?”
“No, I was at a conference in Manchester for a few days. You look well.”
Touching my cheek, I said, “I managed to get some colour in Jeddah, in between wearing a burka and hiding under umbrellas.”
“How was it?” he asked.
“Hot and interesting. I’m in no rush to return.”
“Aren’t you almost done with training?”
“Yes. This Friday. I can’t wait.”
“Two more days and your daily commute will be over,” he said, glancing at me just as the train’s arrival was announced.
“Only one more actually. Staying with a friend tomorrow night so I won’t be here on Friday.”
“Then I shan’t save you a seat.”
Lee stepped aside so I could board the train before him, but after he got on I followed him, along with his weapon of choice (aka his briefcase.) In the last row of the second carriage was one free seat. Lee indicated for me to take the seat and he stood, swaying over me for the remainder of the journey.
Once the train arrived in Euston, I lost Lee during the mass exodus and made my way to the tube station. For the first time since the beginning of training, I enjoyed the walk from Hatton Cross to Cranebank and used the time to think about the many events that occurred throughout training.
We spent all morning in the classroom doing Bar Assessments and for some reason I’ve had no problem remembering the difference between Aperitifs and Spirits (Gordons Gin, Johnnie Walker Black and Jack Daniel’s to name a few) and Liqueurs and Digestifs (for example, Cointreau, Drambuie and Southern Comfort.) I can recall every selection of wine and champagne we offer in the Club World cabin and I’m familiar with every beer, but I still have to rack my brain trying to remember the location of the jemmy on the TriStar!
This afternoon we took a trip through the terminals at Heathrow, with Terminal Four being the favourite (exclusively BA.) I found it really exciting watching people coming and going from every corner of the globe.
In T4 as it’s known, I was walking in between Lorna and Lolly.
“You two are fairly getting eyed up,” Lorna said.
Lolly laughed and said, “Speak for yourself.”
“Oh it’s no me they’re looking at, it’s you two. No wonder they say blondes have more fun. I think I’ll dye my hair tonight so I don’t miss out on any action.”
I laughed. “I don’t think you’re the type to miss out on anything Lorna.”
“You’ve got that right honey.”
Must stop writing and start studying for tomorrow’s final exams and our full review of training. It would be horrendous not to pass this late in the game. I can’t even imagine what I would do.