I made a flying visit to the UK last week and dedicate today's blog to the lady who sat beside me on the Ryanair flight home. After the safety announcements were made (unintelligibly - as is the norm - by a twelve year old with a trout pout), she looked up at the panel storing the life vests and said to her friend "Brenda .. (names charged for f*cking obvious reasons), we don't go over water, do we?"..
Anyway, over the water I am, and I bring disturbing news from the old country'. It seems .. oh God, I can hardly bare to type this .. it seems that the mullet is back. Yes, the worst hair-style on the planet, actively being sported by otherwise-sensible young men, usually with a dodgy caterpillar of a moustache, throwing me right back to Sydney, Australia in 1985. Still, they distracted me from the afore-mentioned trout pouts and thick, smeared-on eyebrows, and the constant vaping by everyone aged three years old and upwards ..
Meanwhile, I made a few more 'then and now' shots, including this pair from Manchester airport. The first is from the days when folk used to visit the terraces for an afternoon of plane-spotting, an activity that's long-since been forbidden, and the second is from the departure lounge, where a man that should know better sat with his feet on the seats and played a film with the sound turned up so that everyone around him could follow it ..
Oh, and I realised one other thing whilst I was away. I realised I've turned into my Dad!
No comments:
Post a Comment