Eggs

 I'm waiting at Canberra airport for them to call my flight. Of course I got here early, you do that. It's really busy... not. 

My little suitcase is on the way to being stowed in the belly of the plane. My overstuffed handbag is sitting next to me. And next to that is half an egg carton filled filled with six eggs. 

My mother insisted I take the eggs back to Melbourne with me. They've come all the way over from Myponga and she's buggered if she's taking them back with her. I'm sure the next door neighbour has been making sure her chooks are fine, gathering more eggs and keeping a general eye on the place. 

But I've now sitting in an airport with four uncooked eggs in my hand luggage. 

I feel like a bit of a hick. Then again, in some countries you can find yourself on internal flights sitting on planes with people nursing chickens. This is better than that. And with any luck, the seat next to me will be free. It's also very sweet that my mother insists I take the eggs back with me - because her chooks really do lay the best eggs - none of this alleged free-range business you buy in the supermarkets. These chooks have run of four acres of lawn and they wait on the verandah at night for my step-dad to go and put them to bed. 

It's been a lovely few days hanging out with the family. Today, after a trip to the gym, we found some lunch, had a drive around, mostly avoiding the large, seemingly peaceful and mostly daft demonstration outside of Parliament House (the air horns started up around 8 am). We went up to the Arboretum to have a look at the view. We went back to Queanbeyan for my cousin's 60th birthday party - and now I'm here - and the folks are going to have a quiet night before they start the long drive back to Adelaide. 

But I sit here, with my precious four eggs bestowed on me by my mother, wondering if I am the only person who has this sort of thing happen to them - whether it be eggs, jam or some other family treasure that must be taken home with you, back to distant shores, where you allegedly can't get these things.

Raw eggs - well yes, they're not as good as mum's chook's eggs, but still. Especially as there are a few demonstrators around the place, they might think I'm one of those anti-mandate, anti-vaxxer, anti-everything mob and I'm about to egg something on someone (where is Scomo when you need him?)

I find this one of the strange little juxtapositions of my life. 

They are calling my flight. 

Today's song: