From 360000 feet with love…

It is so bumpy, this flight!!!

There have been moments, over the last half an hour, where I have been on the very precipice of a real life, lose the plot, screaming, shouting, throwing myself on the floor and begging the pilot to land, panic attack. (Yes, I hear you gasp in shock. It really isn’t like me!)

I have informed the Irish one if this turbulence continues, they will need to let me off the plane. I need to get off this plane. This fear is awful. Terrifying even. (Not right at this moment like, as I’ve had two beers and I am undeniably calmer. I have learnt in the most recent past on a night involving a lot of darkness, a mountain and an axe murderer hiding in the undergrowth, that with a beer, most things are easier to handle.) But earlier on,  post Stella Artois, I was totally serious.

The Irish one, being as pragmatic as he usually is, just looked at me and said  ‘please do NOT TELL the air hostess you are in labour or something. You do not look pregnant. That woman was bang out of order, and you had just had a whopper.’ (Some Spanish bint in burger king was busy fondling Woo when she turned to her husband and professed how brave i must be to be pregnant again so soon. I speak Spanish. This little tete a tete did not end well.) And damn it he knows me too well.

Another beer then.

It is bumpy now. Holy hell it is bumpy now. Did I mention I am drinking beer to calm me down? It seems to be working so much better than lavender oil.  I am a whole decade calmer than I was an hour ago, plus I can see land and for some reason that totally puts my mind at ease.

Let’s not start to question how absurd that notion is right now. We can examine that when my feet are firmly placed back on Mancunian tarmac.

Right now all I want to do is ensure Woo stays asleep and my over pumping, harassed and confused, medicated heart does not flop out of my mouth and land with a wet splat and a warm thud on Addison’s forehead. (I would also like to ensure the plane doesn’t , well, you know, I can’t actually bring myself to utter the words i hear so often on air crash investigation at 36000 feet. (Mental note to self stop thinking about air craft investigation) but needless to say that one is out of myyyyyyy bloody control.) Fuck it is bumpy. I Bet we are over France. Even French air space is hostile towards me. (I swear the French, yes the whole nation, hate me. I worked there for six months in 2002 and made many enemies, few friends. It had a lot to do with my being English and nothing to do with me thinking ‘Zut alors! On coule! Was a good conversation opener! Damn tricolore GSCE French! )

Quick look out the window… yup, I can still see land.

Another beer please.

The time should be 6.15 pm as we have an entire hour left of this death flight. Instead, the time at the top of my (switched to death flight mode) Iphone reads 2.15am, as Monarch delayed us by a year and a half, to carry out routine maintenance on this very aircraft (of death.)  I don’t mind so much the delay. It was the fact Burger king closed too early and by the time i was hungry again i couldn’t have another whopper (baby) implanted in my belly. Also the El Starbuckso shut at 8pm. Which is ludicrous. Absolutely ludicrous. I shall be writing a letter of complaint.

My holier than though, buzzy bee, hackney knee, all things sweet and sour, VERY BLOODY BUMPY JAHAYSUS IT IS BUMPPPYYYYY. The seatbelt sign has been on and off once already. I bet it comes on again now. That is never good. They should change the please fasten your seatbelt sign to; there is a damn fine chance we are about to plough in to the side of a mountain please sit down sign, at least that would be more honest. And you could prepare, say your last goodbye’s etc

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. It is bumpy. Some woman once told me when I felt the fear like this I should picture myself somewhere that makes me calm. Picture yourself in a calm, loving, stress free environment she said. An environment that makes you happy.

I am having a lie in curled up with Doodle.
I am having a lie in curled up with Doodle.
I am having a lie in curled up with Doodle.
I am thin.
I am thin.
I am thin, 

What?! It’s my bloody projection!

There is also a mountain of Swiss chocolate.
There is also a mountain of Swiss chocolate.
There is also… oh who am I kidding?

Another beer please!

Still bumpy.

The Irish one has fallen asleep. If this bumpiness gets any worse i shall have to wake him with a swift sharp jab to the nether regions. (And not the ones we are currently flying over!)

I thought it was only supposed to be Ryan Air that had turbulence this bad for god sake! (If you don’t believe me, ask anyone who has been on a Ryan air flight and they will  no doubt, readily regail you with horror stories of Irish turbulence. A Ryan air flight could turn a seasoned pilot to a lump of quivering mess, I am sure of it. I can only assume this is because, A) the flights are so cheap they completely cut a corner, because they cannot afford not to, and miss out the entire semester of flight school that includes how to fly smoothly, or B) more likely because the fact they are in fact pilots, they are too busy shagging slutty scouse air hostesses at 23000 feet to give a shit about, you know, their passengers, being shaken about like a jelly on a thigh master. But hey ho! It’s not like i am bitter or anything. (If you have no idea what i am going on about. That is probably for the best. But feel free to read my earlier post about bumping in to an ex. That should explain it all in perfect detail. Oh and if you do read it, my boobs don’t leak anymore either. So yes, it does stop.)


Where the hell has the land gone? How can land just disappear? That is ridiculous. Oh my god it is soooooo bloody bumpy. I will have to write a letter of complaint.

Oh for the love of god.

Addison just followed through in his sleep (I am shocked I haven’t joined him, and I cannot say I blame him) but I am unable to move from the seat to go and sort the situation as the seat belt sign is back on and last time I checked I still had elbows, so this woman on my left can stick her nose up all she wants, but the smell will have to stay. (Ok, I may have pumped once or twice.)

On the upside I have had a fantastic fortnight, so if I plummet to my death now, at least I will have gone out on a high.

Addison got his first tooth.
I survived a night with an axe murderer.
Addison learnt to walk instead of bounce.
I sprained my wrist.
Addison saw the sea for the first time.
I ate my body weight in prawns.
Addison sat in a forward facing car seat for the first time.
I suddenly developed car sickness and had to sit in the front. (Sleep ploy!)
Addison got gastroenteritis.
I had a screaming fit in my sleep.
Addison had the time of his life.
I had the most wonderful christmas I have had in a very long time.
Addison got to know his granddad.
I already knew he was the best.

And last, but not least I got 12 hours sleep on my first post partum night out. (I Had to mention it again. I am still thrilled by this, even if by now it seems like a distant memory.)

I should probably be trying to sleep now instead of writing this note, but I can’t. I am too stressed out, and besides we should be landing soon.

ARGHHHH yes. I have to go.

The plane is dropping! And with it my arse!

But where is the runway?


I am at home, I am thin, I am drinking a vanilla latte.
I am at home, I am thin, I am drinking a vanilla latte.
I am at home, I am thin, I am drinking a vanilla latte.


6 Comments on “From 360000 feet with love…

  1. Absolutely love this post, its the first thing thats put a smile on my face all week (apart from my kids of course).
    I have never flown and after reading this i probably wont now either 😉

  2. Hilarious as ever, but it reminded me that turbulence is the worst part about flying for me. Once had three solid hours of it leaving the Caribbean; suspect quite a few with soiled undies on that flight lol 😉

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