Coming Home

There's something positively final and possibly even poignant about airports. After all they are where holidays both begin and inevitably end; there is no turning back after you pass those departure gates. Sigh.

The flight home from Karachi was via Jeddah. As it turned out we were three of ten passengers on that leg which was quite humourous and needless to say I made use of the five seats that I had allocated to me: at this point I had had around 4 hours sleep in the last 48 hours.

The flight from Jeddah to London was less empty. In fact it was pretty full. And that, full of people from Leicester. Now no offence to any readers from Leicester (ahem) but I suspect that this was the first time many had used an airplane. Honestly I thought they were from Pakistan at first, running around like headless chickens not knowing where to go or what to do. And while searching for their seats some of them even had trouble counting and I swear they were struggling with their alphabets. Bless.

Otherwise, our approach to London was during a clear day and so we got to see Canary Wharf and a couple of other landmarks. I had forgotten that it was Guy Fawkes Day and it was quite surreal seeing fireworks explode from above!

And so we arrived. I always love that feeling going from the plane, past Passport Control and customs and on to Arrivals. Man, am I glad to be home.