Ya, Houston, we have a problem.

Mel & I hardly ever argue. There’s no point. She’s stubborn as anything and I’m just the most annoying person you’d ever want to argue with. So for me its sport and then we laugh, or she punches me in frustration and gets her own way. Ha, ha, haaaa…

Except water. We argue about water. A lot.

Only in hot climates, obviously. No-one dies of dehydration in Basildon in February. But Melbourne in December? Israel in June? Or, Mumbai in January. These are hot places. Searingly so. And when we visit such places we have ‘the water conversation’ quite regularly. It goes like this:

Mel: ‘oh, there’s a shop, let’s buy some water’
Me: ‘Ok’, let’s buy a bottle
Mel: ‘better get 2- no, get 3, just in case’
Me: ‘in case of what? exactly? We’re walking 362 yards til we pass the next shop selling water, and in 22 minutes we’ll be back at the flat/hotel/restaurant where I’m sure they might have some’.
Mel: ‘well, you never know, and we can use the rest later’.
Me: ‘So we need to carry round litres of water so we can drink it later when its really warm and horrible, in case we don’t see another vendor. And we’re in a shopping mall’.

And so it goes on. I am Aquarius. The fucking water-carrier. When I should be Gemini, even though she is a real twin. Go figure. Show’s how valid astrology is.

Then I often just kind’a ‘find’ bottles of water. Every time we unpack, there they are, we brought them from Goa to Mumbai, just in case the Taj Mahal Palace doesn’t have any. And today, unpacking sadly at home, there they were; her ‘guilty little secrets’, bottles just sort of ‘appearing’ in the dirty underwear, lying unopened in the shirts. I have them lined up in the kitchen in ‘j’accuse!!!!’ fashion.

And when asked what was the ‘hi-light’ of our India trip, what was the bestest of all best bits, I shall have to say; checking into the flight at Mumbai’s brand new airport. ‘WHAT!?!??!?’ they’ll shout, but surely; the Taj Mahal, the manic streets of Delhi, the Red Fortress, the lakes of Udaipur, surely??

No, check in at Mumbai. This pic is Mel ‘in the queue’. Oh, there isn’t one. No. ‘Just sit there and relax and let me have your passports, please’, said the nice little BA chap. We sat, our luggage just there on a trolley. He came back, handed us our passports, boarding passes, some luggage labels and said; ‘don’t worry, just leave it to us, you go through’.

But! I need to queue? I need to get really frustrated. I need to strain my back putting the cases on the conveyor belt, I need… I need…

I need every flight ever to be like that.

Not so sure I need to be home but there ya go.

Happy Friday, happy home-coming

A xxxx