No Inspiration

 I have no inspiration to write tonight. Nothing. Zip. Nada. What I could write about I won't write about as I don't write about work, intimate relationships or some other things. 

So, I outsourced my ideas to ChatGPT, remembering that the AI bot knows about my search history and a few other things. I asked it, "What am I going to write about tonight?" and here's what it came back with:

If you want inspiration for tonight’s blog, I can give you a few angles based on your past style and topics you enjoy.

Here are some options:

Travel Quirks – A wry take on something you noticed in airports or planes (perfect since you’ve been talking about long flights and oestrogen gel).

Everyday Annoyances – Pick a small, ridiculous frustration (like the air fryer posts) and elevate it into an absurd, Austen-meets-Welsh social commentary.

Pop Culture Dissection – A sharp, slightly mischievous breakdown of a song, movie, or celebrity moment from today’s news.

Micro-Manifesto – One short, punchy post about a life philosophy you stand by, told through a funny personal anecdote.

Rant with a Twist – Start with indignation over something tiny, then turn it into a surprising or heart-warming realisation.

If you tell me your mood tonight—playful, cranky, sentimental, or thoughtful—I can zero in on the perfect one for you.

Thank you, ChatGPT - your first prompt has got something I can comment on. 

An Open Letter to Qantas. 

Here we go. 

Dear Qantas, 

You're delving into bellend territory once again. 

This is regarding my flight from Darwin to Sydney on Saturday morning. 

Look, I know that Darwin on what is perceived as the arse end of the country, and the fact that the military runs the airport and only provides completely antisocial flight times to civilisation allows you to use the crappy old flight stock, still. You're acting like a bit of a nob, just because you can. 

See, on my flight from Darwin to Sydney, I had what was one of the more uncomfortable flights I've had in ages. 

Firstly, the cabin temperature was sitting around 30 degrees. 

It was getting to be like a dry sauna in there. Four hours of sitting in a flying tin can, with only hot air to breathe. Thanks for that. 

And yes, it was a completely full flight. I know this because I was supposed to be going home via Brisbane, but you cancelled that flight in your wisdom. I'm not whining about the fact you put me on the Sydney flight - and gave me a window seat, but the old plane stock is not as comfortable as the newer. The seats seem narrower, or maybe it was the woman next to me with the incredibly good childbearing hips, The latter you can do nothing about, 

But when it came to dimming the lights in the cabin, surely there is another setting under what I could call "Just-gone-twilight." It wasn't dark enough on this flight. There was no sleep to be had. And before you say I should wear a mask - my bag was about six seats in front of me, due to the fullness of the flight. Wasn't going to happen. 

The crew appeared to be oblivious. The meal service was done by 45 minutes into the flight. Nobody wants to eat at 2 a.m. But it would be nice if you weren't looked at as a pariah for asking for a bottle of water two hours in. (Obviously, I was dozing when the meal came out). 

And it's not that it was technically a bad flight. The small amount of turbulence over the New South Wales/Queensland border was fine. 

But being dry, hot, unable to sleep, miserable and plastered to a window for four hours - I'm a middle-aged menopausal woman. I get enough of this from my own body - I don't need any more mirroring symptom from you on a four hour flight from Sodom to Gomorrah. 

Maybe look at being nice to the military to let you provide some more sociably acceptable flight times, in planes that weren't commissioned in the Whitlam era, where the air conditioning works, water is plentiful and the dimmer switch goes down to a two, instead of a five. 

We won't mention that it now costs 20% more Frequent Flyer points to get anywhere. 

Nevertheless, Saturday morning's Darwin-Melbourne flight has put you firmly in bellend territory.

Yours, 

Pandora Behr. 

p.s. For those not knowing what a bellend is, see below:

Today's song: