March 19th, 1989
Flight from Tel Aviv, Israel (TLV) to London Heathrow (LHR)
Weird to think I woke up in Tel Aviv and back in my own bed tonight.
Call time came at three thirty this morning and needless to say I didn’t want to get up. I go back and forth on whether to keep my hair short or grow it longer but at four this morning with the hairdryer blasting, the short style won the vote. At least for now.
Flight time home was just over five hours and I didn’t get to sit down until I strapped into the jump seat for landing. Bumped into Sam in TriStar house and he looked absolutely awful. Apparently he was, “severely hungover from a not so tame evening at Madame Jojos in Soho last night.” He was off to Athens with a very mature looking crew and he joked that when he arrived at the briefing room, he thought he’d mistakenly found himself in a briefing for a Concorde flight. He’s very naughty but very funny.
Being a Sunday, the tube wasn’t as busy as it is through the week but the train home from Euston was packed. I felt knackered at that point and was desperately hoping to find a vacant seat. Fortunately I did and between drifting in and out of sleep, I concocted a fantasy that Ben would be waiting for me on the platform.
Mum and dad were keen to hear all about Tel Aviv and mum was especially interested in hearing about the Church of the Nativity but as I explained to both of them, it’s difficult to put an experience like that into words. It’s somewhere you need to witness for yourself. I really loved the little I saw of Israel. There was so much beauty, not to mention the history.
Sarah invited me round to play cards and watch videos with her, Simon and a friend of his from Kent. No thanks.
Jon rang, asking if I wanted to go out for dinner. He offered to come and pick me up. No thanks.
Pamsy rang and invited me to hers sometime this week. No thanks.
Ben rang. Thank you.