The long haul

It started like any normal day, and ended with Matisse committing two separate crimes. The first was hitching a lift to the airport without a baby seat. The second was evading the liquids and aerosols act. That was technically five counts of the same crime, one for each 120ml sachet of liquid baby food. She wrote a postcard to Escobar from the boarding lounge. 

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The flight to Singapore was great. Matisse had her own bed, but would she sleep in it? No way. She was too busy keeping Emma awake. Matisse passed on all her well cultivated tricks for "resisting arrest." Oh snap. 

 Butterfly garden, Singapore.killing some time.

Butterfly garden, Singapore.killing some time.

After being awake for the best part of 20 hours, Matisse finally went to sleep on the flight to Barcelona. She spent "majority" of the next 9 hours like this. When turbulence hit they made me move her onto my lap. I wanted to punch that turbulence so hard. All three times it interfered with the flight path. In my severe over tiredness the air hostess is lucky she didn't wear it by accident. 

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The final four hours of the flight were long, and dotted with distracting Matisse from breaking into first class. With broken, airplane sleep under my belt I was aching for ten double espressos on the rocks. I got one coffee and one tea as a consolation prize. I can't explain how good that first sip of tea was. The relaxation, so encompassing I dropped the cup right into my lap. Oh man. I was too tired to even care. I just picked up the coffee and skolled it. 

 Breaking into first class.

Breaking into first class.

Barcelona. A chilly 15 degrees on arrival. Brrrrrr