Day One
An early start. A couple of tearful phone calls to Jo and Paula. A very tearful goodbye with Daddy. I don't know who was more upset but all of us had a good cry,which for Fern and Clover lasted about an hour. I felt like the worst mother in the world, dragging two sobbing children from their father. Eventually I used some good old fashioned parenting skills and resorted to sweets and a smacked bottom. Am kidding of course. I would never buy them sweets.
Daddy called several more times in tears which didn't help. Finally he gave me some advice about how to try and be patient in India and not get too stressed (as if!), to chill out, enjoy the experience, and try not to get swindled.
We miss him already.
The flight seemed to go on forever- Rufus slept and snored happily and the girls kicked each other's chairs, shouted with their headphone on at ridiculous volume and needed the toilet every 20 minutes. Eventually I punched Rufus to wake him, thus ensuring his flight was as miserable as mine. I managed a couple of bloody mary's before abandoning alcohol and sticking to water. I felt a cocktail didn't look particularly good with my anti-embolism stockings. I could have done with another one though when I checked the flight map and looked down on Baghdad, Tehran and Kabul. No sign of Tenerife.
Or my comfort zone.
Everyone on the plane was Indian and stared at us for the duration with a sweet mix of curiosity and sympathy. Or wonderment that someone would team DVT tights with tan wedges. Was dying to be approached by a nice old lady who would befriend us for the duration and take us to her son's house for chai. No luck, despite maniacally grinning at all
Indian women. So far, we remain alone and friendless.