As the air hostess undid the last, teasing button, a site beckoned that no traveller would find even with the aid of their guidebook. I gazed, longingly. I knew if I blinked, I would regret the moments I missed, as she knelt down slowly beside me she whispered those unforgettable words “what drink would you like with that Sir?”. With this, I woke from my mile-high slumber, groggy if somewhat startled.
My blurred vision afforded me the unexpected site of plastic coated minted lamb, the smell drifted with me as I turned to feast my eyes upon the trolley wielding Adonis. To my dismay, ’she’ had turned into a ‘he’ and my whole fantasy came crumbling cruelly down around me. I took little solice in washing it down with the glass of bitter orange juice, generously supplied by BMI. Continue reading ‘I’m in a Russia to start a travelling…’
