people watching Archives - Circles in the SandCircles in the Sand

So, I’ve just got back from London’s Heathrow airport, seeing DH who was on a flying visit from Dubai and who I miss terribly during the summer.

I never thought of Heathrow as romantic, but places can surprise you. Plus, when you’re not staring down the barrel of 8 hours in a metal tube with small children, airports can actually be fun – not least because you can watch the travelling public, fresh off the plane from far-flung corners of the world.

So good to see you, DH!

Today, among the crowds, there was the blonde Virgin flight attendant in pillar-box red, who’d climbed onto the highest scarlet heels I’ve ever seen and must have decided her regulation skirt didn’t offer enough leg room (fabulous legs, though, so the short skirt was forgivable).

And a little Japanese boy banging away to his heart’s content on one of the pianos dotted around the airport as part of its ‘Play me, I’m Yours’ scheme. (What were they thinking?)

Funny, though, how when it’s your kid bashing away at a piano, you hear it with your teeth, but when it’s someone else’s child it doesn’t grate so much.

My people-watching reached new heights of hilarity, however, on the airport bus back to my parents’ town. It was a National Express coach service and stopped at Terminal 5, where it was boarded by a lady who actually needed the underground, and a man who hopped on and asked: “I’ve got a car booked with National. Can you help?”

“That’ll be the car rental office you need,” replied the bus driver (who must field dumb questions every day). “Over there.”

I felt kind of sorry for him (intrepid, he wasn’t) and heaven help him when he’s flung into orbit on the M25 motorway.

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Pretty girls are walking by in cut-off denim shorts and bikini tops, heading for the surf in high spirits. The atmosphere is laid-back. Casual. Anything goes.

A bright yellow, almost sunny-looking police car just drove by, followed by a slightly battered red vehicle with a surfboard on top.

There are elderly people doing their weekly shop, noticeable because their faces look weather-beaten and wrinkled. But they’re smiling and relaxed. As are the throngs of scantily-clad shoppers and beach-goers who are milling around, some sipping on a ‘flat white’ before resuming their Saturday-afternoon activities. Others heading straight for the waves.

If this doesn’t sound like the Middle East, you’re right. I’m far, far away, in Sydney, Australia (a country I fell in love with 10 years ago when I spent three months here as a backpacker), and I’m writing this post while people-watching at a cafe in Manly.

My body thinks it’s the middle of the night – such is the jet lag when you fly for nearly 14 hours straight. But it’s worth it: I love the vibe here – the way it shouts ‘Life is better in board shorts!’ I love jumping on and off ferries to get to Sydney’s beachside suburbs, the opera house, harbour bridge, botanic gardens, pie shops and the fact zebra crossings actually work.

Best of all is spending some quality time with DH [whispers: without the kids]. I literally ‘went to work’ with DH, tagging along on his 5-day trip to Australia and New Zealand. He’s flown on to Auckland now, which I chose not to do because I’m a complete amateur when it comes to jet lag. He’s used to it and not phased by doing both countries in 72 hours.

So now I’m solo in Sydney. Just me and the credit card. And a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, before DH gets back tomorrow night!