Yesterday we embarked on our Summer sojourn. It's our first overseas holiday, in fact our first real family holiday, for 5 years so we've all been very excited. With a morning flight we had to set off in the dead of night, and no matter how much we tried there was so much palpable excitement, there was very little sleep to be had.
In a podcast I listened to recently a teacher had explained purgatory to young children as an endless wait in a pretty dire airport. After a morning sat in an uncomfy chair with my head nodding, weedling away the hours prior to take-off I have to say as trite as the comparison may sound, I am now inclined to agree.
Best part of the day so far (I wrote this towards the end of the flight)? How about one of the, ahem, "sing song" stewards mincing down the aisle while singing "sisters are doing it for themselves." I kid you not. I swapped a knowing-look with the eldest child and we sniggered in union.
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