Although I don’t like queuing, waiting around or the thought of ten hours in a metal tube, there are definitely some things that make me love to fly. Admittedly the longest flight I have been on is about twelve hours, and the thought of longer is the reason I have not yet been to Australia, Hawaii or Alaska (although they are on my list of places I want to go), but what I do love is that for six to ten hours there is very little else I can do except catch up on the latest films, read, work and take the odd little nap.
When I’m on the ground life seems to fly by. There’s rarely enough time to get everything done and I often feel guilty if I’m not working or doing something constructive around home. It takes me ages to read a novel, I rarely watch television unless I am ironing, and I can’t even remember the last time I even watched a movie at home, let alone went to the cinema. But 38,000 feet up, there is little I can do except write, read, watch movies or television and dream. Plus if I am travelling with my family, I also get to spend some seriously quality time with my husband and son without the distraction of phones and everyday life. In its own way, it is idyllic.
I love my life and consider myself extraordinarily blessed. I have a wonderful family, travel more than I ever dreamed I would, go to some amazing places and events and have a writing career that I love. I cannot remember the last time I felt bored or that I had nothing to do. Frankly I would not know what to do with myself if I didn’t lead such a busy life - I love it that way. But like most moms, I often feel I am running around like a headless chicken trying to keep all the balls in the air in the juggling act that is everyday life. And for these few hours suspended high above the earth, I can do all the things I love without an ounce of guilt or the feeling that I ought to be doing something else.
It is utter bliss, and I am grateful for every moment.