June 5th, 1990

June 5th, 1990

At home

It’s interesting how, as cabin crew, we spend so much time together then no sooner do we land in London, before slipping back into our lives, all until the next lengthy trip, when the pattern repeats itself.

Fun chat earlier, with Jon;

“McGarr! To what do I owe the honour?”

“I’m ringing to say thanks.”

“For what?”

“Well, let’s just say that if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have just spent two weeks on the island of Antigua in a way most people can only dream of.”

I smiled when I heard him chuckle. “Sounds like you owe me a pint.”

“Or two,” I laughed, before going on to explain why, after which he said he was “Well chuffed,” that I actually listened to him.

Mum’s still up in Scotland, which dad only told me tonight is because Granda (his Father) was admitted to a nursing home facility in Dunoon. Apparently Granda took a nasty fall and is acting very confused poor thing. Dad will be going up this weekend but mum was able to go sooner, not sure when she’ll be back, hopefully soon. I missed her million questions in the first minute of my homecoming!

I thought about ringing David at home and leaving a message, then I thought I’d be bold and ring him at work but I don’t typically do that, so I guess I’ll wait for him to contact me. In the meantime, I’ll continue listening to the dulcet tones of Sade on my Walkman, singing “Haunt Me,” which makes me feel floaty and in need of a visit to a certain rooftop deck.

 

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