Am at Hong Kong airport, waiting for my return trip back to ol' Blighty, after a fantastic 4 days in Manila! I had such a good time, most of which I'm going to blog about when I get home.
I'm not really looking forward to my flight back. England was playing us Aussies at the Rugby World cup. I walked passed the packed sports bar and we were winning. I went to get myself a little snack, came back, and saw the last 5 minutes. In which time we'd managed to lose. I now have to get on a British Airways flight back to London with a bunch of smug pomps, all pleased that they beat us. By 2 points. I however will not be beaten down by these smug, beer swilling, aussie bashing, one trick ponies. I'll hold my head high on the plane, and will no reneg on my Australianism, by saying I'mBritish. I'll take the grief. Mostly by keeping my big gob shut.
This is the 3rd hour of my 4 1/2 hour wait in Hong Kong Airport. Normally I don't mind waiting that long on stop overs. It gives me a chance to look around, grab some food, check out the local oddities. Only problem is that I've already spent 5 hours in Hong Kong Aiport on my way out to Manila, so I've done everything: I've looked every single shop over. Twice. I've checked out all the restaurants and bars. I've eaten some food (some delicious, some not so good). I've flipped through all the magazines in the news agents. I've even taken a little trip on the train between terminals. Only then did I discover the joy that is free internet access!
Anyway all in all I've had such a bloody fanstastic time on my little stint away. Only problem is that since I wasn't there long enough to get my body clock in check, I've not really slept much in the last 4 days, and right now it's definitly showing. My eyes are blurry, I'm absolutely knackered, and I think I'm doing a little sleep deprivied window shopping. I've just caught myself in a jewellery shop looking at engagement rings. By myself. And believe me, I am as far away from getting married as you can possibly be. The shop assistant must have known that I was single, since the look gave me as I caught myself mesmerized by the big sparkly solitaire diamonds was so filled with distain that I might as well have been flinging myself on the counter, pulling my hair and wailing: "You're RIGHT, you're right, I know you're right!! No one is every going to marry me. I'm so loooonnneeeellllly".
Oh dear. I blame this totally on the sort of torturous sleep deprivation that drives prisoners of war insane.
Ok, only an hour left to go.. I'm off to see if I can blag my way into an executive lounge, and on this flight I am dose up on G&T's and go to sleep, so that hopefully I don't arrive in London, well frankly, pathetic.