Lift off

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I'm starting this sitting in Toronto airport. By the time it is alive on the interweb, we will either have made it to England, be back in Ottawa, or we will still be sitting here, staring at my screen which is itself in front of an iPad screen, which is offering me anything I want to eat, or drink, or play.  These are things I have not missed.

Managed to get in some nice stress-busting bike rides last week as departure day loomed.  The admin involved in travelling right now is impressive: pre-departure covid tests, UK gov passenger locator form, book arrival covid tests... Hours and hours.  But as I keep saying, we are doing this voluntarily.  Anyway, that all ate into packing time, and packing had become tricky.  England in August, Spain in September, the Alps maybe in fall/winter, and then who knows where or when?  But we did it.  On one side of Crystal's parents awe-inspiring garage, the contents of our house:

On the other side, our bags, ready to go, nearly two hours aead of schedule.  

Yes, we watched olympics and had a leisurely lunch, only somewhat compromised by that nagging "if we're ready early, it must be because we forgot to do something".  Then a drive-by visit with the Jacksons/Paoliellos, and onward to the airport. It felt familiar and at the same time novel and odd.  

One flight and 4 hours later, it now already feels more quite like the old normal plus the mask and a boat load of hand sanitiser.  This is after all what we told ourselves we would have to do: find ways to reduce the risk and continue our way of life, even if that way of life is cooking the planet and filling the oceans with plastic (paper cup of airplane coffee comes with a "covid clean kit" full of itty bitty plastic stuff).  But folks have jobs, and well, we're a little stuck with this as yet unsolvable paradox.

Ha!  On with the holiday...   

Update: we made it to England, with no hitches or hiccups.  Home for the next little while, courtesy of the wonderful Medhurst family:


  

  

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