Fleeting

I had a morning cup of tea this morning surrounded by enormous suitcases and stressed looking people in all manner of clothes for all manner of seasons. There was a slight waft of kerosene in the air and disembodied voices announcing times and exotic locations.

Yes, I was in Roissy airport, not because I was coming in from anywhere or leaving to go anywhere, but because my friend L was flying in briefly from England to Hong Kong.

Heaving myself out of bed at 7.30am, only 30 minutes after I normally get up when I drag myself off to work, I hastily ate some cereals and got ready. Not wanting to show up looking bedraggled I tried out my new skinny jeans and discovered that black and white trainers look stupid with them. Mentally making a note in my head to get some funky black flats I braved the Saturday morning metro.

I really hate taking the metro or RER early on a Saturday morning. The people on it are either loud-mouthed tourists, exhausted, drained looking night-shifters or people on their way home from parties - these are generally both loud-mouthed and exhausted. I experienced all three this morning, on my way there and on my way back. The RER B is the darkest and most sinister of all the lines but this morning (when I was returning to Paris) was host to a group of women from the north-west of England on a hen-night, most of whom looked old enough to be the mother of a bride, but I couldn't actually work out which one was the bride! In any case, now I know why Sheila isn't buying a house in Spain (she'd be too tied to the one country and wants to see the world), why Ron will retire next year (he's fed up now, innt 'e?) and why Barbara can translate anything in French (she's been before).

Gloomy journeys aside, I had a lovely two hours with L in a cafe in terminal 2C. It had been 3 months since I'd seen her last and while I was getting used to her not being around I still missed her very much. We caught up on developments (G's forthcoming move to Chablis - more on that soon, her new apartment, our respective jobs) and discussed pressing current affairs:

"So, have you seen Brittany's new hair?"
"I know, what made her shave it off?"
"Paris Hilton probably didn't want the competition and persuaded her it was a good idea during a Jack Daniel's marathon session..."

She got on her second plane of the day and headed back to the world of three-storey shop fronts, live chicken markets and mountain escalators. So now it's back to catching up by blog, her on mine and mine on hers, though I'm sure it won't be long before she's back again.