AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: A Mid-Life Adventure: part 2 DATE: 8:06 AM ----- BODY:

Wednesday 30th June 2004 Last night, I slept not at all. Excitement, fear, worrying about what I may have forgotten. A failure of imagination as I tried to picture what the next two weeks would be like. My thumb throbbed and I was aware that its dressing made me look slightly ridiculous. As though I am constantly giving the thumbs up sign to who ever may be passing. But that was last night. Now is an entirely new place, as though I had stepped through a window into a fairy tale. Nothing feels quite real. I am very tired. Lack of sleep, traveling, stressing about things that did not need me to worry at them like a dog at a bone. G, my ex, drove me to the airport and stayed until it was time to move to the departure lounge. I was grateful for his company. So many people rushing around, confident that they knew what to do next, where to go, what was needed. My ignorance made me feel foolish. Do I need my passport now? How do I know where to board the plane? What do I do with this boarding pass? Do I have time for a coffee? To change the dressing on my thumb which is bleeding again? Despite my panic, everything went smoothly and I soon found myself strapped into my seat next to a window waiting for take off. I had expected to be afraid. The last time I flew I had a three month old and a two year old with me and no time to take much notice of the experience. This time there was just me. Sitting alone on an airplane only two thirds full. My heart thudding in competition with the sound of the engines. Then, then it happened! We were air borne and every fear, every thought, except for the sheer enjoyment, the wonder of the experience, fell away. My face pushed up close to the window like that of a child, longing to have someone to say 'look! Oh look!' to. I was aware of nothing except the view. Houses and cities turned into glorious patterns, then the sea, then wonder of wonder, clouds! I must sound so naive. Stunned and almost reduced to tears by the beauty of clouds. It was like traveling through mounds of candy floss. Surrounded by shapes and subtle colour variations as though some giant had created an enormous sculpture, a piece of installation art to be viewed from the inside. A three hour journey seemed like only minutes. Watching the light change, the way night seemed to suddenly arrive and display its own special loveliness. Then the moon, so large and full, glowing like mother of pearl and so close I felt I could reach out and touch it. All around me people chatted or read or slept. Closing blinds against this fantastical view as though it were dull or every day. Which of us sees the reality? Them or me? I suspect that it is me who is odd, and that most people will laugh at my enthusiasm for what is merely sky, clouds, the moon. And now I am sitting in my hotel room, having walked around it several times (despite its smallness), touching things in an effort to make it feel familiar. I am over overwhelmed by the strangeness of everything. The heat, the press of people, strange accents and language I cannot understand. The holiday reps like boisterous sheep dogs. After booking in and seeing that my case was safely in my room, I went to the bar and bought a bottle of water. I sat at a table set back in the shadows in a corner, but soon fled to the silence of my own space and the comfort of my journal. I cannot imagine tomorrow.

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