My year without flying

It came to my attention that on this weekend last year I took my last flight. I remember being on the plane with the tail end of a chest infection. I remember the death stares I got from the people in front of me when periodically coughed. I remember that the plane was only half filled, there were a few people wearing masks. I also found a six pack of Quilton at the Coles at Wyndham Station, which I took, as at the time, loo paper was almost impossible to come across in Melbourne. I wrote about it at the time. 

My handwashing song at the time was 'Oliver's Army' - two rounds of the chorus. I now fluctuate between that and 'Agadoo'...

I remember the half-empty airport - soon to be completely stripped of staff and passengers. I remember that I had been really excited to see The Pixies at the Opera House forecourt - bit it was cancelled last minute. I wanted to see them in the open, and not at the Palais in Melbourne, as you can't got apeshit and mosh at the Palais. 

I remember having breakfast with Alice on the Sunday morning. Alice, her partner and I were supposed to be going to The Pixie together. Alice and I originally bonded over The Pixies 15 years ago. Alice drags me to live music every now and then. I haven't see much of Alice this year. 

I remember how ordinary it felt to just nip off up to Sydney for a weekend. I did it once a month for nine years. 

And then the pandemic came and the planes stopped. There was a while there when you saw a plane in the sky and you had to make comment, like Tattoo on Fantasy Island. 'The plane... the plane...'.

In this last year, other than two trips to Adelaide by car and a weekend down the Great Ocean Road, I've been nowhere. 

I was hoping to go to Bali last November. I'd like to return to Britain, do a bit of a tour of Cornwall and Wales, find out where I'm really from. But no. Not now. Not for a while. 

And then there is the 200,000 airmiles I have in storage. That's nearly enough points for a return Business Class trip to Europe. 

But we can't think about that. 

It's been a year since I've been on a plane. 

I know I may have a trip to make to Canberra in the not too distance future. My dear aunt is on her last legs. 

I'd also like to go down to Hobart to wander around MONA for a day before having a look around Bruny Island. Oh to see something different. Blarney will look after the cat. 

I'll start small. It's hard to plan at the moment. 

But it's been a year since I've been on a plane. After 20 years of regularly schlepping off to the airport on any given Saturday morning, popping over to Adelaide to see the folks - oh hell, just going somewhere, anywhere. 

Two years ago at this time I was in Hong Kong, before the troubles had really set in. 

I miss travel. 

And if I'm really honest, this marks a year which started my year without sex. 

This is another topic for another blog. If only I can find the courage and clarity to write it. 

Today's Song: