November 25th, 1989
Girls flat, Hampton Hill
This is the third night in row I’m opening my diary after four in the morning!
In less than five hours, the alarm on my handy dandy travel clock will shrill its annoying sound. With my eyes still shut, I’ll bang my hand about on the floor (I’m sleeping on the couch; full house here, with most of the partygoers spending the night) until I locate the clock. After I find the little switch that stops the alarm, I’ll no doubt wish I’d called it a night much earlier than this.
A few minutes later, I’ll get up, take a shower, put on my uniform, drink tea, eat toast with jam, then drive, with Lorna, to the staff car park at Heathrow. Knowing Lorna as I do, she will no doubt talk the entire way, even after I hint at my desire for quiet time, at least until I feel a bit more human.
From the car park, we’ll take the shuttle bus to TriStar House and after we drop off our suitcases, we’ll head upstairs to the briefing room to meet the rest of the crew we’ll spend the next five days with.
Lorna’s staff number is one digit ahead of mine, so she’ll get to choose her working position before I do. No doubt the two of us will get stuck working down the back, which I’ve heard is dreadful on Narita flights, due to the amount of extra smoking rows.
After a flight time of about thirteen hours, we’ll land in Japan (my first time!) and pile onto the crew bus in a zombie like state. I have heard, however, that the crew hotel is very sophisticated. Still, with the nine-hour time change, I won’t check into my room until lunchtime tomorrow.
Typically, at that point, after such a long flight, preceded by three late nights and two parties, where I danced for hours on end, I’d go straight to bed. But tomorrow, instead of jumping into bed, I’ll sit on the edge of it and make a phone call to a hotel, a mere hour away.
During that phone call, arrangements will be made and when I hang up, I will no doubt be smiling, in the knowledge that in another couple of hours, David will knock on my door.