I arrived in Melbourne Friday around lunchtime with high hopes of being fabulous. Despite having arisen in the fours (Oh the pain of that!!) I had showered, done my hair and makeup and gotten dressed in a comfortable but moderately cool outfit. I was early to the terminal, so grabbed a coffee and water and sat down to tweet.
Soon my flight commenced boarding. Sheri and her partner arrived in the nick of time. And we caught up quickly as the Virgin staff loaded our plane. As I squished into my plane seat, dozing quietly (I hope), I pictured the upcoming events with what can only be described as a childlike sense of excitement.
I squirmed and wiggled in my seat. I looked around. I fidgeted. So soon, to avoid being told off by the very sharp lady with legal documents next to me, I turned on the tv and watched Gilmore Girls.
Rather intently, or so Sheri tells me. She went to the loo and I didn’t even notice her go past me. Whoops. It was a rather good episode, I think, I got a little lost since I hadn’t seen an episode since Rory went to uni.
And then the flight landed. I was there. We made our way through the terminal, Sheri, her man and I. Branching off for random purchases and coffee. And after collecting our bags, bracing ourselves, the moment, the one I was waiting for had arrived. I stepped outside, in Melbourne.
And the wind caught my skirt & fringe and whipped them both at the same northern’ward direction. Hair ruined, skirt manageable. But I was here. Who cared!!?
(Well me, if someone had of told me that the water in Melbourne was so hard that my hair would be a virtual oil slick for the next three days and would never look anything remotely approaching decent. Thank goodness messy head pony tails are sort of in. Now if only my hair was waaaay longer!)
Suger 
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