pinch punch

Changi Airport, Singapore. Many naughty Australians have met their fate here at the hands of the security guards. Now I find myself in a similar position – senile from lack of sleep, feeling slightly worried but mostly idiotically amused that I am about to bring a bag of Moroccan mint tea through the security, a substance which, if not for its pungent scent, would pretty much resemble a 20-years-to-life packet of weed.

I left Europe as I came, through Copenhagen airport, except this time I was so desperate for a coffee that I exchanged my final 10AUD and probably lost most of it on commission. The flight so far has been pretty standard but I’m not looking forward to this final leg – the one where I try to sleep. The novelty of flying in the dark will never fade for me. Tonight the highlight was flying in low over the top of central London, straight up the Thames and seeing all the sights from above – Westminster, the Eye all lit up for Red Nose Day.

I said goodbye to Lund with a bunch of roses in one hand and the remains of my uncompromisingly culled wardrobe/life (21.9kg, to be precise) in the other. Penny, Nikki, Vale and Murray saw me off with the traditional Lund Centralen Farewell by racing the train to the end of the platform. I tried to be brave on the train, aware that by bawling I would be breaking an important Swedish social convention: that of never showing emotion on public transport. It was only when, at an altitude of 30,000 feet, somewhere over Dubai, that my emotions crept on through. The stimulus was Coldplay’s The Scientist piped through my free Qantas headphones. And even though it’s a blatant tearjerker (not to mention being written for Gwyneth Paltrow, who is insipid, undeserving and all in all a right fool) it tugged at stuff inside me and I cried confused tears for the life I was leaving behind and the one I was going back to.

Claire reckons I should write about what I’m looking forward to and what I’ll miss. When I think about going home, I think about summer on my farm. I can almost smell the mix of dry grass, eucalyptus and dust. I can almost hear the cicadas chirping and the house creaking and sighing in the heat. And I can almost taste the beer waiting for me (Australian of course, none of this European stuff) watching the sun set on the hills and the 7.00 News on the ABC. Watching the sun set after 4pm, even! What else. Seeing my friends, both my Melbourne and my Wodonga ones, and catching up on what I’ve missed. The warm embrace of my extended family. Going surfing on the coast with Leah and Georgia before we start a year of living separately. There’s too much I’ll miss from Lund to get started on that half. Perhaps later, when I’m feeling more lucid.

My row is being called. I’ll write when I get home. If you hear from me in the next few days, you know I was successful with security. If not, call my lawyer tout suite.