Imagine if we could have our lives laid out in graphical detail, then we’d very easily be able to identify what was going on at all the pointy bits. Whether they were pointing up or down.
Memories are constructed around all the pointy bits in our lives. Some pointy bits we shoulder alone. Others get intertwined. Get shared. Rounded off. Softened. Become more bearable. Even those pointing up far better shared.
On arrival at Bastia Airport, to meet Laura, we don’t expect an impromptu game of Oranges and Lemons to be waiting for us at the car park entrance. Not content with one barrier – a more sophisticated two parallel-bar system faces Beastie on entrance. His far from svelte physique more suitable for shot put. We roll him in. Pull up. The ticket machine alongside does a strop. Refuses to do what it’s there for.
After an ultra brief instruction – “Avancez un peu” – we obey the voice on the other end of the help button. Beastie inches forward cm by cm, to almost touching point. Then realisation kicks in. The ticket will only be issued when the rear barrier has come back down. Suddenly, it does just that. Clunks down onto the bike rack. Beastie and his back pack one metre too long. The barrier tries again. Bounces off. Does a quarter 360, as if attempting an Axel Paulsen. Bounces down to the side. Parallel with Beastie. No longer parallel with its compatriot.
The CCTV crew are probably creasing themselves. Thinking they’ve got some viral YouTube footage on the go. They send a man our way. He solves the problem. Now we’re in. Ninety minutes later, an identical exit system sees Beastie perform the very same routine. This time however, the rear barrier plunges down and wedges in the space between Beastie’s backside and the bike rack. Even if we were to be issued a ticket we’d be stuck anyway! Another man appears. Attempts to lift the barrier by hand. Gets it perpendicular against its will. It doesn’t like it. It too does a strop. Throws itself down at a right angle. Like a two year old having a tantrum. At least this enables our exit.
The reason we’re exiting ninety minutes later?
Laura arrives. Her suitcase doesn’t . . .
. . . it’s still at Stansted! 🙁 🙁 🙁