A week is a long time in Tenerife, and four hours is a long time in a plane. Not that I actively dislike flying. Apart from the take-off and landing, but four hours is a long time for anything to stay up in the air. With all the planes in the air at any one time, God, even as the Trinity, won't have enough fingers to hold them all up (that was very strange; I thought I was typing 'all up' but it came out as 'up all' - so I changed it - a brain is a funny thing) so he must delegate to the angels. In which case I'd like to put in a request now for Gabriel to carry our plane tomorrow. He was so gentle and reassuring with Mary when he was breaking some rather startling news to her that I'm sure he would be a angel you could depend on in an emergency. Not that there will be an emergency. But he's not likely to fall asleep on the job. Perhaps that is what turbulence is really. Angels who've had a night on the tiles the night before and they momentarily drop off while on carrying-airplane duty.
I've got my pirate costume all ready and I've packed my books; I suppose I should start thinking about clothes to take now.
I got a copy of Bridget Jones's Diary from a charity shop for 50p. I did have a copy but Anna lent it to someone - although she denies that. But I'm not taking it; I bought it more for keeping than reading. I have a variety of others both fluffy and serious. Mostly fluffy I admit. Ian's Mckewan's Atonement is my gesture to intellect. Tenerife is not the place for intellect.
2 comments:
Enjoy tenerife!
While you're out there, could you make sure my Dad doesn't get into too much trouble. You know what he's like with his alcohol.
Will do, Jon.
And I'll try and take a photo of those tasty menus too, Josie. mmm.
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