Wednesday 24th March

Knackered. Like every trip to a different timezone, this one’s already pushed me into a state of mildly hazy alertness. Sitting here as I am, writing at what would be 3:45am. Instead it’s almost 8 o’clock in the morning and the desert sun’s lighting up the busy waiting room in Abu Dhabi. The man behind me is playing hick rock slightly too loudly so that it invades my thoughts. The rest of the team have just caught us up and they’re looking for somewhere to sit. Infront of me, a mother’s clutching her daughter to her chest. They’re not the only ones trying to sleep.

So we’re half way there. Half way to a project I’ve been told could be shocking and life-changing and humbling. And for the last couple of weeks I’ve been trying to decide what I’m expecting. Because I doubt I’ll be any of those things. Not to the core anyway. Yes, I’m expecting poverty and I imagine the people we’re going to see will be pleased we’ve gone. But I don’t imagine it’ll change my life. I’ll still go back to the ice cream and the 12 varieties of toothpaste and the over-priced restaurants. Because that’s my life.

And so far, it’s been very nice. Take the last 7-and-a-half hours. My in-flight entertainment choices included 24 movies that have recently been released. I opted for ‘The Blind Side’, which doesn’t come out in England until this Friday. It the one where Sandra Bullock plays a God-fearing Republican voting Mississippian who takes an oversized black teenager under her wing. It’s feel good and it won her an Oscar. As it played, I selected the lamb bhuna from a choice of three on the menu and sipped on a vodka and orange juice followed by red wine. Movie over, I read for a while before unfolding the free blanket, reclining the chair and turning off the personalised light to catch a short knap. I concurred with Lynne who stood over me to protest to John sitting next to me that the seats were a bit too small. My neck hurt slightly by the time I stood up. But this was economy class and you get what you pay for. I was slightly irritated when big group behind me got too chattery as we came into land. The ironic applause when we landed wasn’t as funny as they thought. But they’re young.

I’m sure the man behind me has turned up his headphones. It’s bearing out ‘Save the last dance’. He likes rubbish music.

So now we fly on to Manila and from there I’m expecting a drive of between 2 and 3 hours on to our destination. It means we pretty-much write off Wednesday altogether. There’s still another 12 hours of travelling ahead and with the time-differences, we probably won’t arrive until the early hours of Thursday. Frankly, I’m happy to write it off already. I’m grouchy and tired and fed up of the automated messages about keeping your luggage with you at all times. On the way to this waiting room, we passed the smoking area. It’s a small glass box in the middle of a hallway. The excitement of smelling something that isn’t hygienic or coffee was too much. I wanted to run around shouting ‘danger, danger’ ‘look at me, I’m a terrorist threat’ or run up to someone and kiss them. But my mildly hazy alertness and general sense of Britishness meant I just walked on.