September 15th, 1989

September 15th, 1989

At home

Felt a little weary when I got home today but that’s not unusual after a night flight.

Mum was in the kitchen with the talk radio station blaring.


“Oh, bejesus!” She yelled, spinning round to meet me. “Ye gave me a bloody fright.”

“Sorry,” I shouted, moving towards the radio. “Do you mind if I turn this down a bit?”

“Just shut it off, all they’re on about is the ambulance driver strike.”

I kissed mum on the cheek.

“Ye got a lovely tan,” she said.

“The weather was gorgeous so we spent a lot of time on the beach.”

“Aye, I can see that. I’ll make ye a wee cup of tea. D’ye want toast?”

“Yes please.”

“I got the strawberry jam ye like, from Waitrose.”

“Aw, thanks mum, I love that stuff. I’m going to get changed, then I’ll tell you all about the trip.”

“And?” She asked

“And what?”

“And you can tell me what happened before you went to Bermuda.”

I gave her a questioning look.

“With David,” she said. “Did ye no just see him?”

The penny dropped. “That’s right,  you don’t know any of that.”

“I’ll make extra toast,” she laughed.

“We might need bacon and eggs as well,” I said, with a chuckle. “For the juicy bits.”

“Away wi ye,” she said, swiping my arm.

Upstairs in my room, I could hear mum singing as she moved around the kitchen, rattling dishes. I quickly changed out of what we crew refer to as “the deckchair,” more commonly known as our cabin crew uniform! I tossed the striped skirt and blouse into the bathroom hamper, washed the make-up off my face (love that feeling) and brushed my teeth.

When I came back downstairs the postman had been. First thing I grabbed was the envelope with the BA logo. Sensing that it was probably my new roster, I tore it open.

“Shit!” I exclaimed.

“Don’t swear,” mum said. “What is it?”

“Look,” I said, pointing to the letters.

“Lax?” She pronounced it in the same way she’d say laxative.

“No mum, it’s L A X.”

She gave me an inquiring look. “Wit does it mean?”

I jumped in the air, waving the paper. “L A X,” I screeched like a cheerleader, “is the airport code for Los Angeles.”

Mum covered her mouth with her hand.

“I’m finally going to LA!


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