Fear of the week

After a wonderful few days at home with S, I am already back in Scandinavia and am missing him more than I thought was possible. It is like a drug addiction, I get a fix and it is never enough and then I have to go cold turkey... It is really hard work but I have to remind myself that it will not be like this forever.
We took a look at our wedding ring designs, S was hugely upset that they were computer generated images rather than hand drawings and to be honest, they didn't really show us much that we didn't already know. My design was incorrect which frustrated me slightly, especially as correcting it has obviously bumped up the price, not because of the mistake, but because it almost doubles the carat value of the ring! S and I discussed this price hike, and feel that it is a small amount in the wholeness of time to get what you want. We will be wearing these rings for the next 40 years (I hope!) and the added cost comes to very little when you work it out per day. I have always loved the way that S and I can come to the same conclusion using the same bizarre logic and can usually persuade ourselves into anything. The champagne and chocolates that the jewellery shop gives us every time we walk in probably help too! So we now have our perfect rings on order and I cannot wait to see the real thing!

I also got to catch up with a few friends while at home and, as all of our lives are changing so quickly, it was nice to feel time slow down for a little bit as we talked and laughed well into the small hours of the morning. I was very proud too that my weight loss has not gone un-noticed and receiving a few compliments always spurs you on. My total loss so far is now 20 lbs and I am only 1 lb away from my first goal! It has been easy so far and the results are miraculous! I took great pleasure in choosing my new goal and I have now decided that I am aiming for my "ideal" BMI which is a far lower weight than I have ever been over the last 8 years, but I am confident that I will get there! Watch this space!

This time in Scandinavia I have a whole 20 hours in my apartment before I am off to another city and country for at least a week. Yes, it is that time of the year again.. Simulator time. It is, in my opinion, the worst part of this job and if you are not actually doing your simulator test then you are working towards it, talking about it or dreading it appearing on your roster. I always seem to fair ok, and as my favourite saying goes "the harder I work the luckier I get" and so far I have been very lucky!!

The next few weeks will decide a couple of my future moves in this chess game called life and as much as I am dreading decisions being made for me, I am looking forward to the wait being over. I can deal with a plan, a solid idea of what is to come, but I do not cope well with the unknown. Whatever the outcome, this phase of my life is drawing to a close and the next is appearing on the horizon, I just hope it is not as heartbreaking, disappointing or lonely as this one has been. I feel I have paid my due.

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365 Days

A year ago today, the man of my dreams asked me to marry him, and I asked if he was taking the piss!
I thought it an appropriate day to share our story!

We took a wonderful two week holiday to the Maldives, a small island in a northern Atoll that can only be described as a slice of paradise. We had a room facing the ocean and a week of strolling around the island, scuba diving and letting the world pass us by. It turned out that the hotel had two sides to the island, if our side was paradise, then the other was heaven. It had rooms on stilts in the ocean, butler service and stairs down from your private deck straight onto the reef. You could choose to upgrade to this side, even for only a night, and we thought it would be nice to try. We organised to move over for two nights and I was blissfully happy!! What I didn't know is that S had actually organised to stay in this Maldivian heaven for the entire last week of our holiday. We had our butler bring us lunch on our terrace, went snorkelling every day and I was totally unaware of what was going to happen.

One evening on our way to dinner our butler turned up on the beach. It wasn't strange as he had a habit of turning up whenever we left our room and seemed to have an instinctive knowledge of where we would be or what we might want next. However, on this occasion he said "would you like to follow me?" and pointed in the opposite direction to the dinner hut. S didn't seem remotely surprised and so I blindly did as I was told. We were shown to the private pool area where a single table was set for dinner, overlooking the infinity pool and the sparkling ocean. It was beautiful. I was really sad that I didn't have my camera with me, and S being the amazing guy he is, went back to the room to get it. While he was gone I stopped the table wobbling by placing a small rock under one of the legs, I also ran around to the other side of the pool to take pictures (with his camera) of the table. When he returned, the butler served us a fabulous 5 course meal and I felt like the star in some sort of Hollywood movie.

S asked if I wanted to take a wander around the pool and when we got to the other side, he got down on one knee and asked if I would be his wife. It was like a dream, the perfect setting, well thought out and a total shock to me. So my first answer probably wasn't what he was expecting and certainly wasn't very lady like! I was so taken aback, I asked if he was taking the piss! Not my proudest moment and one that will take a while to live down! I, of course, eventually got around to the expected answer and he presented me with the most gorgeous ring I have ever laid eyes on.

Looking back at the photos, it is no wonder my man was distressed during dinner when I mentioned I had fixed the table and taken some pictures. If you look closely, the ring box is sitting at the base of the table leg on his side and the little pink corner is shouting out to be discovered.
As it was, I had no idea, and I had another 3 days in heaven to hug the secret to myself before flying home and breaking the news to our families. Although, as I said, being the amazing man he is.. My dad had already been asked. Perfect.

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Late

One of the questions I get asked quite often is "what really happens down route?". Well, I usually fly only short-haul routes so I really can't comment on the regular night stops that most people in the business get. After all, what people are really asking is "is it true that the girls go wild and the rooms get trashed?", it is yet another stereotype that has somehow crossed over from hard rock band members to professional pilots.

I do get the odd night in a sunny destination and mostly the stops have consisted of good food, a post flight drink and lazing by the pool in the morning. I haven't had the rock and roll late nights or the swooning hangovers and I imagine it is for two reasons. One, I don't usually drink that much, I know how to have a good time and have had moments where I realise that still drinking 13 hours after the first sip could result in a painful morning, but these are few and far between. When I was 18 I went to my "leaver's ball" at school and the night started as you would expect, great dress, fabulous hair, a date with a matching tie and beaming parents. It ended very differently though. I had a glass or two of wine, and I am being honest when I say one or two, and celebrated with a glass of bubbly, as soon as the bubbly hit my stomach something strange started happening.

I felt like the marquee was really stuffy and hot, so went outside for air, my dress felt tight, my skin sore and suddenly I was finding it hard to breathe. I can remember in perfect clarity every second of what happened next, because I was absolutely certain that they would be the last moments I would experience. I collapsed in the bushes, just beyond the light coming from the marquee and I could see people coming and going from the entrance but could not reach or shout to them. My lungs felt like I was breathing in acid and my body felt like it was on fire. For some reason my brain instructed my body to crawl and I don't remember consciously thinking of a destination just the fact I knew I had to move. I managed to get to just beyond my boarding house before a friend happened to walk past and carried me into the house. The school had the forethought to put qualified nurses in every house and I have never been more grateful! My parents were roused from their beds and I knew everything would be fine. I vaguely remember my dad sitting with me most of the night but between hyperventilating and passing out, I can't fix on much else. My date for the night was one of my dear friends and to this day he has still not forgiven himself for not going outside with me when I said I needed some air.

Despite the outcome, I think somewhere it has buried a seed inside me that will always stop me going to far, even though it was not brought on by excessive drinking, but an allergy. I have never had it tested, but some days I can feel the symptoms start and it can be from a drink that I happily drank before but one sip has a vastly different effect on another night. I am always aware of this and if it ever happens then I just don't continue for that night. I don't feel like I am missing out, I have as much fun sober as most people do drunk but have less of a headache in the morning!

The second reason the night stops are mostly tame is that I am still fairly new with the company and don't speak the language. The crew all try and include me, snippets of english every so often but it never lasts very long and before you know it they are chattering away and you have no clue what about. Luckily for me, two nights ago I bumped into a really good friend who also happened to be night stopping and that made for a much more interesting night! A little more to drink than strictly necessary at dinner followed by the ransacking of mini-bars and a room party. Who knew that filling a hot-tub with bubble bath could be quite so entertaining, although clearing up the overflowing bubbles in the morning was not quite as funny. The 3 hour walk we went on in the morning gave us plenty of time to put the world to rights and I flew home feeling like I had offloaded a lot of pent up stress.

I arrived back to Scandinavia with enough time to re-pack and get 4 hours sleep before I caught my flight to the UK. It is GREAT to be home and see S but, as always seems to happen, he has had to go to work so I am once again alone for the evening. 'Friends' who were supposed to come around to keep me company haven't, without even a text to let me know. If I wasn't so tired I could probably muster the energy to get annoyed but as it is, this lonely heart is off to bed. When I wake up, all will be right with the world as S will be beside me once again.

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Time

Why is it that when you wish time would stand still, it seems to speed up just to spite you?
I know the age old saying of "time flies when you're having fun" but no one is ever quoted saying "time flies when you need more of it"! I have been organising my calendar today, a critical part of a pilot's life (and key to a smooth relationship with one), and I have never seen it looking so busy. We have a colour coded calendar that S and I share through Mobile Me, a genius invention from Apple that I couldn't live without, and at the moment, it looks like a paint shop threw up on it.
My work calendar is green and his is grey, and more often than not, when there is a gap in one, the other fills it. As you know if you have read my previous posts, I have a hard couple of weeks coming up and it seems the mess on my calendar is reflecting not only the feeling in my brain but the state of my apartment too. The more I try to tidy up, the messier it gets. I am a lover of piles.. If I don't have somewhere to put things right away then they get "sorted" into piles. Right now my flat looks like a replica of stonehenge, I am in a space in the middle while the columns of paperwork and washing etc threaten to fall inwards and smother me.

The great thing about our calendar is that it lets us share our plans and appointments without even needing to be in the same room, let alone country. I know when I can expect him to be available and he can do the same. Not only that, but I can put reminders on that will then magically appear at his end. Today we found that we have managed to orchestrate a week in May where the colour green or grey are nowhere in sight! This is a rare occurrence normally but unheard of when it is for a special family event. S's uncle is having a big birthday celebration and we are both able to attend it! To many, this might sound a bit sad but to those of you who have any comprehension of a pilot's life, you will know how much of a big deal this is. Plus for me it is extra special as I seem to miss out on his family gatherings with remarkable frequency. I don't feel that I know them all that well, I am pretty sure that one or two don't really like me and it is hard knowing that you are standing on the outside of a family that you are about to marry into. They are all so tight knit and I love that, but it makes it really difficult to feel included when you are always missing the get togethers. They all live within a small radius and although it provides a great "home base" it raises a question for me, will they see me as the woman who stole one of their own? I've always been the one openly suggesting moving abroad and living the expat life,  what if they think the only reason my man accepted the job in the ME is to please me? I can see the ranks closing and it being even harder to break in than it already is.

With each conversation or thought about future events, I am reminded once again how fast time moves when you don't want it to and the same can be said about life. I heard a saying that I liked a lot, "Life is like a toilet roll, the further towards the end you get, the faster it spins". It seems that a week has the same ability, office workers always say that Monday drags along and the weekend flies by. Well, in a few days time I have 4 days in the UK with S and although I am hoping it goes like a Monday, I'm guessing it will feel like only hours before I am back in Stonehenge and counting the days until I am home again. I can hope though!

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Lack of..

That has got to be the worst night's sleep I have ever had. 
I flew into Copenhagen, Denmark, and then took a taxi across the bridge and through the border to Sweden, I spent the night in a lovely hotel in the centre of Malmö. The taxi ride is bizarre, you start off going through a tunnel and pop out on this huge long suspension bridge that seems to curve with the earth's surface and 20 minutes later, you still haven't left the bridge!

Malmö itself is very pretty, I only saw the main square and a few shopping streets but the architecture is amazing and in the centre of the square there was a man playing the pan pipes like his soul was trapped inside them. The music echoed hauntingly through the side streets and it turned out he wasn't the only talented busker in town! There was a band of three guys playing guitars and a sax, then a one man band complete with cymbal and a home made drum! Normally I get annoyed with people playing music in the streets, they do bad copies of well known songs, play far too loud and generally ruin the ambience, but each of these played original music at a respectable level and people couldn't help but stop and listen. The one man band only ruined it when he started up the pink panther theme tune..!

The hotel and staff were pleasant enough and there wasn't an ant in sight which was a definite improvement on the last hotel room I stayed in! I've just realised I could probably write a very interesting blog or book reviewing hotels, after all I do stay in enough of them! I digress.
So after a quick bite to eat it was time for an early night, and that's when I noticed the air-conditioning making a funny noise. The lights go back on and after a 10 minute hunt around, I realise it is not controlled from inside the room but a system that is obviously linked throughout the hotel and probably has a few thermostats dotted here and there. Back to bed as I try to ignore the "whoosh whoosh" noise that comes in inconsistent waves. Darkness tends to heighten your hearing, I imagine it is somewhat like what blind people experience, that when you lose one sense the others try to compensate. So with my superman sense trying to ignore the whooshing, it focuses on the tap dripping in the bathroom instead. Not only that but I now hear that there is a clock in the room too. I have to explain that I am not normally a fussy sleeper, I have lived next to a railway, under a flight path and out in the countryside and each has it's challenges, having said that, I was already exhausted on arriving at the hotel and acutely aware that my alarm would be going off at 5am and having already got up once for the air-con I was starting to get frustrated.

Lights on, and i'm twisting, banging, tapping and pleading with the tap to stop it's incessant noise. Obviously the tap can't hear the desperation in my voice and carries on regardless. I turn my attention to the clock instead and find it on the opposite night stand, it is battery powered and the back is screwed shut. I'm now wishing instead of superman's hearing that I had inspector gadget's limbs as without them I have no way to get the back off. In a moment of inspiration I wrap it in two towels and shove the bundle under the dripping tap. My triumphant "ha!" could probably be heard in the lobby.
I've jumped into bed and found the perfect position, when the guilt sets in. By the time morning comes, the water will have soaked through the towels and probably damage the clock and while my irrational and over-tired brain thinks it serves the clock right for being so loud, there is a squeak from the rational side that tells me to get up and rescue it.

So, the towels are still under the tap, the clock has been banished to the corridor and the "Do not Disturb" sign is hanging prominently on the door handle. It seems this sign only applies to cleaners though as a party of 5 or 6 guys who are yelling and running down the corridor are clearly oblivious to it. I can hear them pick up the clock and I already know what's coming next by the childish giggles and whispering coming from outside. Sure enough, less than 5 minutes later and an alarm is ringing in the hall. Someone else dealt with it and I'm cringing into my sheets hoping that nothing on the clock identifies the room that it belongs to.
I now have 4 hours before I have to get up and it is impossible to get comfortable, let alone stop looking at the clock on the TV to see how much time has gone by since I last looked. It's a vicious circle and although I finally did fall asleep, it seemed like seconds before it was time to wake up again.

At least breakfast was quiet...

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Silence

I opened my eyes this morning to the blissful sound of... silence! I live above a family who have two small children, and so far I have been woken up every morning to either the sound of screaming or Scandinavian postman pat! They have gone away for the weekend and I am actually upset that I will be working or I could have enjoyed three more mornings just like this one. There seemed to be a dulling of the outside world too and it didn't take me long to work out why. Just as I had started thinking it had finished snowing for this year, we had about 4 inches of snow last night.

Snow always seems to absorb a lot of noise and changes the light outside dramatically. It has the same effect on my mood. Don't get me wrong, I like snow, I am definitely more of a sun and sand person but I can still see the beauty of snow. However, in reality, the day to day tasks are made ten times harder when you have to crunch through inches of wet stuff. I have to add a few minutes on just for my walk to the bus stop, mostly so that I don't fall flat on my face going down the driveway but also because I have to stop every so often to clear the snow build up that my bag is creating. Your shoes get wet, the bottom of your trousers get wet and slowly but surely it seeps up your leg, let alone into your socks. At 5am on the way to work, it makes for an unpleasant start.

Snow issues aside, I have more than enough to worry about right now without the weather compounding things. I have a few weeks to go before my 6 month sim check, 8 hours in a simulator spaced over 2 days having to deal with any failure or emergency that the instructors throw at you. Not only that but they want to see your "command potential" so you are put in a situation that you would never find yourself in on a normal work day. Shortly after that I am off to the ME for an airline selection, a job that I desperately want but is notoriously difficult to get. On top of that, I have my contract here to think about. Originally it was a winter contract only, and therefore ending in May, however they have asked us to stay on permanently. Obviously I don't want to stay, but if I get the job I want, I will have to. They have strict rules about the number of hours you need to join them and by May I will short by about 60.
So here is my dilemma, If I get the ME job, I have to stay in Scandinavia for another 3 months from May (the contract notice period), if I don't get the job, I get to leave here and spend 3 months over the summer sorting out our move and our wedding together with S in the UK, not to mention catching up with the friends and family I have sorely neglected these past 7 months.

I have always been the type of person that does the "right" thing. If a decision is between my head and my heart, my head wins every time. My heart is yelling at me to go home, but my head is gently reminding me that 3 months out here is not that long in the wholeness of time. I guess it will depend on the interview outcome and I am terrified that my heart might win this one by default. Back to the books it is then..

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Packers

We have finally got around to getting some packing companies over to the house to quote for the move to the Middle East. The first company made it to the house on time, took a look around and gave S lots of reassuring information on how exactly they would pack and look after his antique wooden desk. If nothing else arrives intact to the ME, I seriously hope that desk does or I will never hear the end of it. We are still waiting on a quote from this one, but had an email quotation in from another company and my eyes are still watering! £3500 for a few tables, a sofa, far too many clothes (mostly my fault), two beds and a TV. You have to be kidding me! I knew it was going to be fairly expensive but that is just ridiculous. The next company to visit called S from outside the house saying no one was in. This slightly confused him as he was in the study waiting for them and the door bell hadn't gone once. After an odd conversation they worked out that the packing guy was ringing my mother-in-law's door bell... 200 miles away. S had put the wrong address on the form but had confirmed the correct address with them later on the telephone, seems the change had been ignored. It makes me wonder if our furniture would turn up in the ME at all or whether it would somehow find it's way to Australia with an equally bizarre explanation. We have a few more companies to hear from but I am hoping the quotes will be slightly more reasonable!

As you can see on the left, I added two countdown timers to the blog. I had to check the emigration one was correct about 3 times as I couldn't believe that it was only 133 days to go. It sounds a lot, but when you put it in months, thats only 4 and a bit...! I'm excited but terrified too. I have yet to get a job there and still have the interview hurdles to jump over but, I am sure something will work out. I have a feeling that this is fate working for us and although I will of course still work for it, I really feel this is meant to be. I seriously hope I don't regret saying that in a few weeks time!

On a brighter note, I am looking forward to spending a few days in the UK with S at the end of this month. It's been over 4 weeks since I was last with him and it has felt like forever. We are looking at wedding ring designs and I have found a wedding dress sale that I might have to pop into! There is so much that needs to be done, but a girl has to find a dress!!

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Promises

I flew with a captain today who made a promise to his little girl. She was not allowed to eat a single sweet from January to November, and he would do the same. When he turned down a chocolate bar from the crew, I said "you know, she would never find out...". He looked at me with a very serious brow and replied "but I promised, and I would know". I was touched, his 8 year old girl should be very proud of her daddy and the commitment he is showing. It got me thinking about promises. We all make them, sometimes huge ones like promising to love and honour your partner, other times small ones like promising to return a phone call. Who decides which ones are bigger or matter more than others? We all know of a promise we have broken, I promised I would try and be less irrational or emotional about being out here alone and I definitely haven't managed that. I actually came to the realisation yesterday that I was actively trying to alienate S, because then being alone would be on my terms and not forced upon me. I crave human contact and miss him so much, but in the same breath I'm pushing him away to make it hurt less.

In our steps toward the BIG promise, I can see that it is the little promises that count. How you honour these translates to how you will honour the bigger ones. As my Captain said, HE would know that he had broken it and that is what made the difference. Here is one pilot who won't be cheating on his wife. Despite what I said to him, I believe it too, if you think breaking a promise is ok because no one will find out, then you are only cheating yourself. Come November, the Captain and his daughter will be celebrating their success together, he will have taught her a valuable lesson whilst enjoying her delight that daddy truly did do it with her and why would you want to cheat that?

On an entirely different note, my brother returned from Afghanistan today. I unfortunately couldn't be part of the welcome party and despite rushing home as fast as possible, didn't manage to speak to him before he no doubt collapsed in an exhausted heap. It is an example of the celebrations and gatherings that pilots are forever missing out on, our rosters and inflexible leave make forward planning difficult, and last minute changes near impossible. Men no doubt hide it better but it is a bitter disappointment each and every time it happens. I hope when S and I get to having children that we remember not to make promises we might not be able to keep. I hope not to be angry when he misses a party or birthday and remember that this is the feeling he will be having, knowing that there is nothing he can do to change it.

So here is a promise I will keep, I promise to keep trying.

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Diversion tactics

Yet another hotel on a sunny island... except this one is not so sunny! I always feel sorry for my passengers when this happens. They have their shorts ready, beach bags to hand and sun cream pre-applied, only to arrive in torrential rain, snow on the mountains and a wind chill factor that makes leaving Scandanavia seem slightly pointless! We try to soften the blow on our final PA by saying "the weather is due to improve and should be nice for the rest of the week". We have no idea if this is true or not but it stops them leaving the aircraft looking glum and instead puts a hopeful and determined smile firmly on their faces. Is it wrong? Possibly. Bending the truth? Definitely. Hurting anyone? Absolutely not.

As pilots we have a strange relationship with the passengers. A dismembered voice that is heard once or twice throughout the flight with a reassurance that someone is still in charge up there and everything is going as planned. A voice of authority that passengers instinctively trust. Sometimes though, the natural "fight or flight" instinct gets the better of a few and when things don't go to plan, people start to react in very strange ways. The worst is when the option to run is taken away. There aren't a lot of places you can go in a sealed aluminium tube that is 35,000ft in the air, but it hasn't stopped people trying. Luckily for us, you can't physically open a door in flight, and I dread to think what could happen if that wasn't the case. In this situation the "fight" mentality rules and I imagine this is no surprise to some. We have all been sitting next to or behind that person who has had a little too much to drink, or who thinks the way to get attention is to talk over everyone else and generally act like a petulant child. Unfortunately these are the first warning signs that something more sinister could occur. Amazingly on one of my flights this happened before we had even left the ground and a full riot broke out in the back, sadly it was only after a cabin crew member got punched in the stomach that the riot police arrived and managed to control the situation.

When something out of the ordinary occurs on the ground then the option of "flight" is restored and many people take it. I diverted two nights ago from our intended destination due to the weather being below limits. We went to a nearby airfield and kept the passengers informed throughout. We planned to get some more fuel and go back once the weather had improved. There was no stress, no reason to worry and a logical mind would say that it was the correct and safe decision. Logic seems to be lost on some though. 17 people wanted to disembark as they were scared that we would crash while attempting to land in bad weather. Did we not just say that we DIDN'T land for exactly that reason?! One woman hurried up to the flight deck and launched a tirade about how we had traumatised her infant and how it would forever more be terrified of flying and it was all our fault. Said infant was about 8 months old and fast asleep in mothers arms, totally oblivious to the time of day let alone the city we were in. Needless to say, she got off!

So should i be sitting here lamenting the loss if a happy flyer? Or repenting for lying to the passengers about the weather? Frankly no. Those that stayed onboard were safely flown back to the destination less than an hour later and right now, the sun is shining, the clouds have cleared and once more pilots are truthful citizens of the world.

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Cooking

I have just returned home from a "glamourous" night stop that would certainly not live up to anyone's preconceived ideas! I shared my bed with a number of other beings last night and while this would normally have me running in the opposite direction, I was actually too tired to care! I noticed the ants when I was first in the room, but it was only when I threw back the covers to get into bed that I saw I would be sleeping with a few too. I have to admit the stop wasn't all bad though, I did try out the hotel spa and have decided I now know how a chicken feels on a sunday..

Continuing my diet and weight loss plan, I decided to opt for something that was beneficial as well as relaxing. So having been led to a tiny massage room I am told to take everything off and put these paper knickers on. Well, I am not being funny but I have NEVER been able to work out which way round these things go. One side is marginally larger than the other so does that go at the front or at the back? If it goes at the front then you are left wearing the equivalent of a thong and if it goes at the back.. well lets not put an image in your head for that one!! So already i'm feeling a little flustered as I am convinced the therapist will be sniggering when she comes in and I have got these things on backwards (I opted for the thong version in the end, in case you were interested!). I am waiting patiently, face down, on the electrically heated bed when I hear the door open and in comes the therapist. No sniggering yet so I relax a little. Then, in a remarkably male sounding voice the therapist asks if I am comfortable. Yes, there I am naked except for dubious paper underwear, with my backside in the air and wishing that the hole for my face would get bigger and swallow me entirely.
To be fair, he was very professional and discrete and I gave myself a good telling off for succumbing to the stereotype that therapists are female. I reacted exactly the way my passengers have reacted to me being female and I should have known better! At least for my passengers, they are not semi naked when they make the discovery that either sex can do any job they like.

The first part of the treatment consisted of being exfoliated with a mix of oil and salt and I couldn't help feeling like I was being basted and seasoned like a Jamie Oliver meat joint. After washing the salt off, your body is lathered in hot mud, you are wrapped in plastic, covered in towels and the electric bed is turned up a notch. The idea is to sweat out toxins whilst attempting to relax. Of course in reality, you are never as comfortable as you would like and always feel guilty that you are not in the perfect position. The therapist had made the room dark and quiet and the fact that I really needed to move my legs would have ruined that ambience, so I stayed put and let my feet slowly lose feeling, but when my nose started itching I lost the battle and could not help but giggle at my situation. This led to the towel falling off my eyes, the plastic making a horrendous noise and my giggling to erupt into full on hysterical laughter. When I finally calmed down and it was time to unravel me I couldn't stop myself saying "dinner's ready, the meat is done!" to which the therapist replied "but there are no potatoes!" Cue hysterical laughter once again...

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Slush

This morning I opened my curtains to find a full on blizzard happening outside. It looked like it was 5 o'clock in the afternoon already and I had to check that it was actually 8am and I hadn't slept through the whole day! Not the type of weather you want when you desperately need eggs.
I might need to explain that comment! I am on a low carb, high protein, high fat diet (lost 14lbs already and I love it!) and I don't own a car here. I'm following a book called "Neris and India's Idiot proof diet" and wow it works! I wouldn't say I was ever fat, but quite often on the chubby side and definitely a yo-yo dieter.

This book spoke to me, and I hope that this one will stick as I am already over the moon with the results. I love meat so that is no problem for me and I have recently managed to get a copy of my mum's broccoli casserole recipe which is one of my favourite dishes so I have been dying to get it right, hence my need for eggs...

In a "break" in the blizzard I decided I would nip to the shop. It's about 15-20 minutes walk and the snow storm looked like it was letting up. TWO HOURS later and I am still trudging back through 10cm of dirty, slippery, frustrating slush. All I can think as the rain and snow pelt me from above and the slush seeps into my shoes and up my trousers is "this better be burning me some calories!!" All I want in weather like this is comfort food, hot, fatty, very bad for you comfort food. Here lies another problem with being a pilot, if you don't eat healthily at home, you will never fight the bulge.

It is one of the only subjects that "non-aviation" friends actually agree with me on and doesn't take much explaining. The common misconceptions of being a pilot; you get paid loads (90% of the time, utter rubbish), it's glamourous (don't get me started..), you go to fabulous destinations all the time (do I need to comment on that one?!) and all cabin crew want to marry pilots (sigh). The only thing we do agree on is that airplane food is disgusting!
At my previous airline, lunch consisted of a sandwich, packet of crisps and a chocolate bar. The sandwich contained about half of your daily fat intake and so by adding the crisps and chocolate on top you to are probably eating about two days worth. On average you are supposed to consume 15g fat per meal. The evening "hot meals" they serve on board contain over 24g. So here is one more thing they don't warn you about when you become a pilot, you will gain weight! Every pilot I know has put on weight since starting the job, usually the first 2 years are the worst as you are excited about your job and its all so new and interesting that you neglect to think about what you are shovelling into your mouth each day. Some people gain control over it faster than others but for the unlucky few, they never get their eating habits sorted. It is not just eating though, the cabin crew are usually nice enough to bring you in a few cups of tea throughout the day. S used to have 2 sugars in his. So on an average flight, he was drinking 14 cups of tea.. each with two sugars in.. you do the math! He is now a sugar free tea drinker and feels much better for it!

Pilots are supposed to keep fit and healthy and be able to pass a yearly medical, not only for our flying abilities but also incase that fateful day comes where we have to escape using a flight deck window. Believe me, they are not big! Since discrimination cases started being thrown at companies it has become harder and harder to tell someone they need to shape up. (Apart from Richard Branson who gave all his cabin crew gym memberships!!) I know a captain who would be the perfect piece of equipment should you need to plug a hole in the aircraft and I can't help but worry for his safety. It makes this LCHP diet worth sticking to.

So although I would dearly like to cosy up with some comfort food and dry out, I will take my soaking wet jeans to the dryer and make myself a salad. I might consider getting in the dryer myself to thaw out too, is it time to move to warmer climates yet?!

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Oceans apart

It has now been 7 months since I took the job in Scandinavia and it is starting to take it's toll. When I am working, it's not too bad. The captains are nice, the crew always seem to be happy and mostly we get one night in a hotel somewhere with good food. It takes my mind off home and what I am missing but just makes the days off so much harder. My dad came to visit last week and joined me in the cockpit on one of my flights. It was an absolute dream to fly with him and I am over the moon that we managed to organise it. He mostly flew Airbus during his career and I fly Boeings now so a good bit of banter always makes a flight go faster. He has gone home now though and my sparse flat feels even more empty.

7 months is a long time to be gone and even with an end in sight (another 4 months) I seem to have very little energy left to put on a brave face. I know it's not true, but I feel like I am the only one making sacrifices and everyone else is just carrying on like nothing has changed. S goes out drinking, socialising, complains about work and I feel like we never have quality time anymore. Well, how can you? What kind of quality can you have when you get snatched Skype conversations and the odd email. I admit, I bombard him with emails and somehow expect him to reply to each one. I forget that he still has a life while I am the one serving the solitary confinement order.

I'm trying to plan our wedding and I want to enjoy the experience but it is hard when most of it is done over the internet and not together with S. We live separate lives, meeting for a few days here and there and trying to maintain some kind of normal relationship. It can't be easy for him as I am constantly upset and snap at the simplest thing. I don't want to, or mean to but my frustration at this situation sometimes gets the better of me and comes out in the wrong way. Moving to the Middle East is going to be like moving in together all over again. Two independent and stubborn people trying to find a way to work together. As someone once said, a relationship is like two square rocks in a river, they bump against each other and rub each other down until they are two round rocks rolling side by side.

The next few months are going to be bumpy and I wonder if deciding to share the ride with the world was a sensible thing to do.. I can't wait to at least be in the same country as S. Anything has got to be better than this.

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Stereotypes

Everybody makes snap judgments. I've been told that it only takes 2 seconds to make a first impression and a lifetime to change it. This is certainly true when it comes to the Pilot profession. I have got used to the shocked looks of "you? You are a Pilot?!" but I still cannot fathom why it is such a shock in the first place. When I started, I put it down to the fact that I was 19 years old and yes, it is unusual that someone of that age is qualified to look after 189 people and a 55 tonne aircraft. After a while, I decided it was more because I was female because I am now several years older and I still get the dumbfounded expression!

Stereotypes have always been a part of our society and this is not about to change. Last night I read an interesting post on this forum: marriagewithaltitude. It is discussing another typical stereotype that pilots cheat on their wives.

Obviously over the last few weeks I have been discussing my impending marriage with a few of my colleagues and I have to say I am astounded at the responses I get. It has not only become accepted that long-haul pilots will be on their second or third marriage but this fact is actively used as a deterrent for those of us wanting to tie the knot! Now, I have two sides to this story and I want to state now that I do not believe that a certain group of professionals are more likely to cheat than another as I think it lies solely in the individual person's personality. However, of all the Captain's I have flown with since starting this job there are only a handful who are still married to their first wife, and even less who haven't strayed during that marriage. I wonder, is this any different from the path that society (certainly in the UK) is leading down anyway?

My father was a pilot, and he has been married to my mother for over 35 years. When I tell other pilot's this, the first question they ask is "and he flew long-haul?!" I have always dreamed of a marriage as stable and mutually supportive as theirs and I expect to work hard for this to happen. With S about to move onto long(er) haul in the Middle East I can't help but wonder what changes some men from loving husbands to compulsive cheats and will we ever be able to change this long standing stereotype?

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Early on

I guess the place to start is with some background information. I'll try to keep it short!
I started out life as an expat, surrounded by a country that called out to all it's inhabitants to live life to the full and try everything once. Children stayed innocent and had outstanding manners, well, most of them! I moved to the UK in 1996 and in 2003, at the age of 17, decided I wanted to be a pilot. It seems that this is a less than normal career choice for a school girl and my so-called career advisor had the audacity to laugh in my face when I told him. As it turns out, this would become a rather regular occurrence over the next few months and it is just as well I have some kind of patience or I would be writing a very different blog!
My school, having realised I had no intention of going to university, decided I was not worth the effort as I would no longer be contributing to their league tables. In a boarding school that has roll-calls throughout the day, I had disappeared from their view.

Despite this I left school with the grades I needed to fulfil my dream. Full of hope, I applied to a well known academy in England and bought my first suit. I failed the initial entry tests and in the "debrief" afterwards was told that I would "under no circumstances ever be able to be a pilot as I simply did not have the mental capacity or coordination". That's a pretty hard pill to swallow and luckily for me I am as stubborn as a mule and would not swallow it! I dipped a toe into the self pity pond and decided it wasn't for me. After months of studying and preparation I flew to Spain to try again with a different academy and this time, my hard work paid off.
It was here, during the 18 month course that I met the man who will soon become my husband.

I have now been a pilot for nearly 6 years and have been with S for 5. I have been made redundant from one company, flown 2 types of commercial aircraft and taken thousands of passengers safely on their holidays. I now work in a Scandinavian country and feel like my brain cells are slowing down in the freezing temperatures.

S still lives and works in England but our lives are about to change. We are moving to the Middle East in August and getting married the following June. Simply put, that is what this blog is about: A bit of flying, marriage and sand storms all rolled into one!

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