Airplane food is blu-tack on a severed limb. Inadequate.

Sigh… there goes another summer, Snoopy!

Charlie Brown


The seats on the plane were either side of the aisle. I watched as she dozed, until her head fell forward and she looked surprised.


“Are we there yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Bugger.” She held my hand. “Thank you for coming away with me.”

“A chance to rub oil in your body? How could I say no?”

“I’m not a car you know.”

“But you’ve got a great pair of pistons.”



“You’re amazing.”

“I know.”

I contented myself eating the bread roll made of concrete and the cheese more suited to repairing a shoe.

We landed and picked our way through the melee of screaming parents and children pulling rucksacks and plastic bags down, bashing into us, spilling everything, being shouted at, the usual.

We got out through the airport doors and the wind was a cold reminder we were home.

In the taxi, she snuggled into me and it was late when we got back. One last kiss and the holiday was over.

“I had a really good time. Thank you.”

“Me to. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I’ve got to go to London.”

“On a Sunday?” My job meant it could be any day of the week. “Let’s go to breakfast. I will text you.”

When she kissed me, it was a different kind of kiss to those before the holiday. Any doubts I had we would be all right, went with the tenderness of the touch.

I remember as I walked away looking back and calling. “You look amazing.”

She smiled. “Wait until I am showing it off on Monday.”

The holiday had made me decide I would do whatever I could to make things work. Next week we should start looking at buying somewhere together, rather than me feeling like a squatter.




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