This was in 1972. No one in Teeside knew Kenya and my family knew nothing of Teeside. In the curving space between I felt so young and formless.
I had to go to Peckham to see the Levy family. And then Norman Levy gave me a ride to Heathrow. Jessica, who was about 6, came with us.
On the way to the airport Norman took a wrong turning. He reached down to pick up a book Jessica had dropped under the seat. The sign for the turnoff to Heathrow went by before he could bob up again and see it. He realised his mistake and told me. We rolled further along the motorway, and further away from Heathrow. I felt pure melting panic.
Jessica asked "Can we go home now? I want my tea.", But Norman hushed her. Time slowed down and stretched out. We fell silent. The windy minutes rushed by as we headed at speed in the wrong direction.
Norman manage to twist us back onto the road back and after 30 minutes the airport came gliding towards us. We were 40 catastrophic minutes late. Norman abandoned his puzzled daughter in the badly parked car and we both rushed into the terminal. But then we saw the red cancellation signs on the information boards. My flight was delayed.
I hadn't missed my plane after all. Oh joy. We both relaxed, and immediately the intense anxiety was relplaced by intense embarrassment. We started apologising to each other. But there was no time. Norman raced away to Jessica and to escape the parking attendants.
Finally, we all boarded a Boeing 707, but then an hour after the plane took off, the Captain announced: "Ladies and gentlemen we are having problems with one of our engines, so we will be heading back to Heathrow." We came around and headed back to Heathrow.
Some of the passengers were put up at an airport hotel, but they took the overspill all the way down to Brighton. So I went to Brighton. By now my senses were thoroughly disordered. I would arrive, probably, but when? I was given my own room and tired from the constant inflation and deflation of expectations of travel and arrival I went to bed early.
I woke up quite early and, curious because I hadn't seen Brighton in the daylight, I padded up to the window to have a look.I was on the sixth floor. There was the parade, then a pebbly beach and beyond it, a grey-green sea covered in mist. But on the left, far away, I could see a huge, pale building, floating on the sea. I drew back. Then I pulled the lace curtains aside and looked out again. It was still there. And to my right, even further away, like a reflection, was another one just like it. Long walkways went out from above the beach to meet each palace.
What was this? No one had told me of these magnificent floating palaces. Who made them? Were they real? I couldn't tell what they were. We went down to breakfast and I didn't ask.
They took us to the airport again and this time the plane left on time and continued on towards its destination without turning back. After a few hours we were flying over the Mediterranean. Then the 707 turned, creaking and as it dipped, I watched the ripples of waves and the bright wake of boats in the water, and then the plane righted itself again and pointed towards East Africa.
I had to go to Peckham to see the Levy family. And then Norman Levy gave me a ride to Heathrow. Jessica, who was about 6, came with us.
On the way to the airport Norman took a wrong turning. He reached down to pick up a book Jessica had dropped under the seat. The sign for the turnoff to Heathrow went by before he could bob up again and see it. He realised his mistake and told me. We rolled further along the motorway, and further away from Heathrow. I felt pure melting panic.
Jessica asked "Can we go home now? I want my tea.", But Norman hushed her. Time slowed down and stretched out. We fell silent. The windy minutes rushed by as we headed at speed in the wrong direction.
Norman manage to twist us back onto the road back and after 30 minutes the airport came gliding towards us. We were 40 catastrophic minutes late. Norman abandoned his puzzled daughter in the badly parked car and we both rushed into the terminal. But then we saw the red cancellation signs on the information boards. My flight was delayed.
I hadn't missed my plane after all. Oh joy. We both relaxed, and immediately the intense anxiety was relplaced by intense embarrassment. We started apologising to each other. But there was no time. Norman raced away to Jessica and to escape the parking attendants.
Finally, we all boarded a Boeing 707, but then an hour after the plane took off, the Captain announced: "Ladies and gentlemen we are having problems with one of our engines, so we will be heading back to Heathrow." We came around and headed back to Heathrow.
Some of the passengers were put up at an airport hotel, but they took the overspill all the way down to Brighton. So I went to Brighton. By now my senses were thoroughly disordered. I would arrive, probably, but when? I was given my own room and tired from the constant inflation and deflation of expectations of travel and arrival I went to bed early.
I woke up quite early and, curious because I hadn't seen Brighton in the daylight, I padded up to the window to have a look.I was on the sixth floor. There was the parade, then a pebbly beach and beyond it, a grey-green sea covered in mist. But on the left, far away, I could see a huge, pale building, floating on the sea. I drew back. Then I pulled the lace curtains aside and looked out again. It was still there. And to my right, even further away, like a reflection, was another one just like it. Long walkways went out from above the beach to meet each palace.
What was this? No one had told me of these magnificent floating palaces. Who made them? Were they real? I couldn't tell what they were. We went down to breakfast and I didn't ask.
They took us to the airport again and this time the plane left on time and continued on towards its destination without turning back. After a few hours we were flying over the Mediterranean. Then the 707 turned, creaking and as it dipped, I watched the ripples of waves and the bright wake of boats in the water, and then the plane righted itself again and pointed towards East Africa.
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