March 23rd, 1991

March 23rd, 1991

Hilton Hotel, Melbourne, Australia

Saturday night in Melbourne started with a scrumptious crew dinner that swiftly erased any memory of tedious swims (all two of them!) and dull, limp salads.

On the walk back to the hotel, Andy and I sang songs from Mary Poppins (he insisted on being Julie Andrews) and talked about all sorts.

“Ooooh, look, look,” he cooed, pointing to the shuttle bus pulling up outside the entrance to the hotel. “I wonder if we’ll know anybody.”

“You will,” I laughed. “You know everybody.”

“Let’s sit here and watch them go in.”

I sat next to him on the bench, feeling the first of the Autumn chill. “Do you think they’ll see us?”

“Nah, they’ll be too knackered to be paying attention.”

First off the bus was a woman I’ve flown with, whose name escaped me.

“Shelia”, Andy said. “Lovely old bird. She’s been flying since its discovery,  oh and here come the glamour girls, aw bless, look at them, teetering on them heels. Bet their feet are killin ‘em.”

I stifled a giggle, followed by, “Shit!”

“You know him?”

“Oh yes, quite well actually.”

“Tut, tut, tut,” Andy clucked, teasingly. “What’s his name?”


“Don’t know ‘im but he’s nice looking. You want to go and say hello to him?”


He gave me a questioning look. “You sure?”


“There’s a story there, I know it.”

“There’s always a story. The fact is, I’m just not in the mood for pleasantries, you know?”

“Ooooh, get you, being all ballsy,” he chuckled, pressing his shoulder against mine. “I know those two,” he said, motioning to two handsome looking men.


“Not in the mood either.”

I laughed. “So, I guess we’ll stay here ‘til they check in.”

“Definitely. And then I think it’s time for a night cap? Yeah?”

I nodded in agreement. “What goes with nightcap?”

He licked his lips lasciviously, making me laugh, then breathed, “Chocolate mousse!”


March 22nd, 1991

March 22nd, 1991

Flight from BKK – SYD – MEL

Hilton Hotel, Melbourne, Australia

After feeling like a zombie on the flight, surrounded by vile passengers, I came to the conclusion that I probably shouldn’t have stayed up half the night with Andy C, discussing “love stuff,” over several helpings of chocolate mousse. And club sandwiches. And wine.

“From the sound of it, you still seem pretty cut up about David.”

Feeling the lump forming in my throat, I uttered, “Hmmmm.”

“It’s ok to cry, you know.” His voice and expression combining to bring on the tears.

“Ugh,” I sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I’m just sad there was no-”


I nodded. “It all happened so fast. One minute I was getting ready to meet his family, the next, he was gone. I just hope he’s ok and that know…he-”

“Came out?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Was it difficult for you?”

“What, coming out?”

I nodded, unsure whether he’d be willing to discuss such a personal experience and for a moment I thought I’d crossed the line but then he started pacing around the room, talking rapidly.

“It’s something I always knew. Always. For as long as I can remember but it wasn’t ‘til I was nineteen that I felt I had the confidence to, you know, tell my mum and dad.”

“And how did they react?”

“Me mam cried but said she had always known and that she loved me no matter what, which, as you can imagine was a huge relief.”

“And your dad?”

A little laugh escaped him. “Me dad slapped me hard on the back and asked if we’d still be able to go down the pub and have a pint!”

I couldn’t help but smile. “So, it was fine?”

“I don’t think it could’ve gone any better but I wish I hadn’t had all them sleepless nights worrying about it for years beforehand.”

I got up and gave him a hug.

“What’s that for?”

“Just saying thanks.”

He smiled widely. “So, no need for anymore chocolate mousse?”

“No, but we should at least finish the wine.”



March 21st, 1991

March 21st, 1991

Dusit Thani Hotel, Bangkok, Thailand

Back to the pool this morning, joined this time, by Barry, a guy I know through Emilio. Barry’s speedos could not have been any smaller or tighter and the reason he can wear such is because he swims every morning, I mean, every morning, whether he’s at home in snowy Scotland or here in sultry Bangkok.

Watching all one hundred and thirty pounds of Barry glide through the pool was enough to make me give up and head back to my room where, amazingly, I resisted the urge to pick up the phone and order eggs benedict (yum!)

Tonight, a bunch of us went to the Telephone Bar, where the phone on our table was very busy with incoming calls, all for Barry (on each table is a phone that connects to the other tables.) Andy C rolled his eyes when, after hearing Barry talk incessantly about his adventures as “A Space Waitress,” he gave me a look that said, “Let’s go.”

Once outside, Andy (who’s camp factor far outweighs Barry’s) cracked me up with his perfect impression of, as he calls him, “Bootiful Baza!”

In the lobby, Andy asked if I was tired.

“No. Just hungry.”

“Me too, let’s grab something at the bar.”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not eating. Or drinking.”

“What, ever again?” he chuckled.

“I’m really trying to be good,” I pleaded.

“Good is overrated,” he winked. “I’m thinking chocolate mousse.”

“Ah,” I sighed. “My weakness.”

“I remembered that,” he said, linking his arm through mine. “So, your room or mine?”


March 20th, 1991

March 20th, 1991

Dusit Thani Hotel, Bangkok, Thailand

I was wide awake at 0520 and thought about ordering breakfast on room service, but I always order too much, then wonder why I end up feeling full with no energy!

So, now that I’m 24 and mature (!) I’m going to start making changes to my not so great behavior, which began with a trip to the hotel pool, where I actually swam ‘til I was out of breath (only because I was the only one there, otherwise I’d have given up long beforehand!)

Tonight, while the others tucked into heaps of food, I ate salad and drank only two glasses of wine.

It’s a start!




March 19th, 1991

March 19th, 1991

Dusit Thani Hotel,

Bangkok, Thailand

Arrived at 0830 local time to what I refer to as, “wilting weather,” but at least the flight was great, with Andy C working in First Class, which meant lots of yummy food and biscuits.  Andy is always great fun so hopefully it’ll be a decent trip.







March 18th, 1991

March 18th, 1991

Night flight from LHR – BKK

With the arrival this morning of yet another outrageously expensive phone bill, I took the initiative and rang crewing to see if I could start standby earlier than tonight, which was lucky as someone had just called in sick for this trip.

So, it’s off to Bangkok we go!


January 30th, 1991

January 30th, 1991

Anchorage, Alaska

Met Emilio later than planned (my head felt a tad tender) and trudged our way through the snow to the café with the Formica tabletops and rusty metal chairs, saved only by the smell and consequent taste of the delicious sourdough bread they bake every hour on the hour.

“D’ye know the men outnumber the women eight to one here?”
“Fascinating,” I yawned, glancing around at the sea of heavy bearded men, all clad in flannel shirts.

“See anything that catches your eye?”

“Eh, no. I don’t think so!”

“So, it’s still Ben then, eh?” he asked.

“No. It can’t be Ben. We’re bad for each other.”

Emilio shook his head. “That’s not what you were saying the other night in The Truck.”

“That was a mistake,” I uttered. “I got swept up in the moment.”

“And the tequila,” he laughed. “But you love him, that much is obvious.”

I sighed. “Yes, but I know we can’t be together.”

He gave me a questioning look.

“There’s been too much hurt,” I continued. “Besides, it’s time for a change, which is what I always say, ‘til I see him again, then I’m back at square one.”

“It’s never easy, is it?”

“Nope,” I said, tearing off a hunk of bread.

“Imagine how many marriage proposals you’d get if you lived here.”

“Are you saying I need to move to Alaska, just because the statistics are in my favour?”

Emilio laughed. “I don’t think Alaska is any place for a Glasgow lassie.”

Back at the hotel, we went to the pool, which I don’t typically do on trips (I still hate wearing a swimsuit) but with Emilio I didn’t think twice about it. Emilio was wearing speedos and he made me laugh as he paraded his way around the pool as though he was in a bodybuilding contest, making me realize you can be at ease with your body but uncomfortable in your own skin.

The front desk guy at the hotel told us the tanning beds at the place next door are free, so from the pool, we went straight there (sadly we had to get dressed, only to get undressed again!) I know the electric beach isn’t exactly healthy but it felt so nice being warm, if only for a short time.

Tonight, we met up with our crew and I had to laugh when I heard Samantha telling Emilio she thinks we make, “A perfect couple.” Emilio winked at me and when I smiled in acknowledgement, I thought about David, then felt sad for Emilio, because I’m quite sure he’s hiding who he truly is.


January 29th, 1991

January 29th, 1991

Flight from OSA – ANC

Anchorage, Alaska

Started off the day in Japan, ending in Alaska, after a seventeen-hour time difference between the two continents!

Met Emilio first thing and headed for the high-end department stores, filled with beautifully turned out staff, all in possession of impeccable manners. We couldn’t afford to buy any luxury items but did spend a small fortune at a market stall, on rubbery tasting strawberries that swiftly ended up in the bin. I told Emilio I had a hankering for freshly picked strawberries, served with fresh cream, preferably on a warm June day, somewhere like, say, Wimbledon.

“Let me guess,” he laughed. “Front row?”

“But of course,” I teased.

Passenger total was only fifty-five, which on the Boeing 747 feels eerie, especially when darkness falls. Even with such a severe lack of passengers, Harold still refused to allow us any crew rest. I must remember to make a mental note to leave the flying world long before I hit thirty. Emilio estimates Harold to be in his sixties but I think he’s probably closer to fifty, with almost twenty-five years as crew under his belt (no thanks!)

We arrived in Anchorage to, surprise, surprise, snow! It was only nine am, so Emilio came to my room for tea and toast. It was too cold to go out so we started watching “Top Gun” but I dozed off. I have yet to see past the scene where Goose and Maverick sing “Great Balls of Fire” due to the fact I either fall asleep or have to leave the hotel!

Emilio woke me to say he was going back to his room, and that was it, I was wide awake. This is the biggest time difference I’ve been through and I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. Not only that but it’s been a terrible day in the food department, with breakfast and lunch in Japan, then breakfast, lunch and dinner (yes, all on the same day!) in Alaska!

In an attempt to quash the crew rumour that Emilio and I are involved in a romantic relationship, we met up with them and went to dinner but before doing so, we had a good laugh about it.

“They all think we’re shagging like rabbits,” Emilio grinned. “I even heard Harold talking to Samantha about us.”

“It’s actually quite amusing, considering all we do is talk and ea

Speaking of eating, I’m going to bed with a full tummy and a sneaking suspicion that, thanks to too many Margarita’s, I may wake up feeling that most redundant of emotions; Regret!


January 28th, 1991

January 28th, 1991

Flight from NRT – OSA

The Plaza Hotel, Osaka, Japan

Harold, our purser, is a vile little man and we do not like him! He complains about everything and whenever Emilio or I crack a smile or attempt to enjoy any semblance of fun onboard, Harold hurls insults then refuses to communicate with us for the remainder of the flight (which, considering he’s our boss is not very helpful.)

The streets of Osaka are mobbed and everywhere you look are huge flashing, neon lights, all in total contrast to the sleepy village atmosphere of Narita we just left.

Having no desire to spend our first night with our drab crew, Emilio and I ventured out and got asked by at least a dozen people if they could have their picture taken with us. One not so small group (all young and female) were so convinced Emilio is Michael J. Fox that they chased us down the street, almost causing a mob scene!

We ducked into a dimly lit restaurant and Emilio joked that if we want to go sightseeing, we’ll have to don hats and sunglasses.

“You don’t even look like him,” I commented, after we watched the girls run past the restaurant.

“And you’re not a natural blonde,” he retorted. “But it didn’t stop them asking if they could touch your hair!”

“It’s all very strange, isn’t it?”

“We’re not in Glasgow anymore,” he chuckled.

On one side of the restaurant was a counter, laden with plastic models of the food they offer, which made it easy to order and the only reason we stayed. Well that, plus the fact the whole attention thing was getting a bit much (not necessarily for Emilio who has a love affair with his hair. Having said that, I will admit, he has great hair!)

When Emilio’s plate arrived, the food looked nothing like the model and whatever it was tasted absolutely disgusting so we ended up sharing my bowl of noodles and stringy meat that we tried guessing the origin of!

I think it’s time to learn some basic Japanese.


Big, huge, thanks!


Thank you to all who read, followed and liked Miss McGarr’s Diary. I started posting two years ago and have been amazed at the response to my diaries from life in 1989 and 1990.

Posting daily has been a labour of love and as most of you know, seriously time consuming so my blog will now focus on other writing projects.

Wishing you all a Happy New Year and again, THANK YOU!