Heathrow airport. Terminal Five. Deeply excited. Off to collect my eldest daughter arriving from New York. I lovingly buy her a cheese and ham toasty and an iced coffee from Costa Coffee and stand waiting, hips pressed up against the barrier . One hand ( coffee hand) freezing cold, the other ( toasty hand) burning. I'm always amazed why anyone arrives at airports with a fossilised rose. What freak wants to be greeted off an 11 hour flight with a rose - ONE rose - to carry with their hand luggage, with their suitcase - all the way to an NCP car-park? In reality one needs a colonic, a facial, breath-freshner and a Sherpa. Get back to basics. Cut out the cheesy-romantic shit. Once home, what the hell do you do with a dead rose? Separate the baby-breath and spiky fern and put it in a milk bottle? Those roses never bloom, they just fold over and die for they are tainted with recycled air and the false promise of Clinton Card emotion. They are completely inappropriate yet an entire industry seems to have sprung up targeting travellers returning home from a big adventure. Save the roses for later. Give a kiss and a coffee instead
Coffee, kisses and hugs....all you need and all I would ever want, absolutely!!
ReplyDeleteHow lovely to have your daughter home :) I love NYC and so want my daughter to spend time living/studying there one day, as I did. I have told her that I might have to be her flatmate though ;)
stop you know i have a weak bladder... was the toasty a little cold and rubbery and seriously hope it had marmite in it!!
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