I'm writing this to y'all on a plane down to glorious Queenstown. We are completely enveloped in white cloud, and I'm waiting for the wine to make its way round, so this seems as good a distraction as any. I hope you can while away the flight with me, at least until the pinot noir appears.
A funny thing just happened in the airport. I followed a gaggle of American senior citizens through security. They were all geared up to the max in brightly coloured puffa jackets and some very snappy spectacles, on some kind of group jaunt. One of their number was not wheeling the standard issue wheelie cabin bag behind her. She had an old, obviously much-loved, duffel bag. Clearly this bag was way too heavy for her (although surely below the 7kg cabin bag allowance) because, instead of carrying it over her shoulder or gripping it by the handles as you would expect, she was dragging it along behind her for a few yards, and then ... whizz ... thump ... hefting it forwards in front of her by the shoulder strap for another few yards. Seemed an extraordinary amount of effort rather than carrying it.
Draggggg ... hoist ... whoosh ... thump ... .draggggg ... hoist ... whoosh ... thump. Gotta be honest with you, it was quite odd. I was not the only one thinking this, it would seem, as one of her trusty travel companions gliding along with shiny wheelie cases asked "Dianne ... what's with the bag?"
Dianne then proceeded to tell an elaborate story about the bag being her aunt's, 30 years old, and how it was just her favourite thing to travel with. "Riiiiight" said her silver-haired wheelie friend as she disguised her raised eyebrows and slowed her pace. I asked Dianne whether she might like a hand with her bag, and was cheerfully declined, so finding the draggggg ... hoist ... whoosh ... thump thing so maddeningly slow to walk behind (I am not nicknamed The English Impatient for nothing), I scooted past, and settled myself at the gate. When Team Snappy Specs all finally arrived they took seats. No sooner had they touched down, when - of course - we had to move gates. A whole plane load en masse, it was obviously slow, and ... draggggg ... hoist ... whoosh ... thump - and a few muttered apologies as another passenger was hit in the back of the legs.
"Just give it up Dianne - get a new bag!" I could hear one of her friends mutter. She actually clocked me in the back of the legs as we were boarding, but only moments later as we settled into our seats I could hear her muttering "But I just love it, it's just so convenient, it's what I've always used." I have to say a part of me actually admires Dianne's unwavering commitment to making her life harder than it needs to be in the face of so much well-meaning opposition.