This is partly habit. As children our holidays mostly switched between two places in north Wales, apart from one memorable occasion when I was thirteen and we went camping in Jersey. That was the first time I'd been on a plane, and I didn't get on another one until twelve years later. Including that Jersey trip as a teenager, I've now done three out and back plane trips in my life, an average of one return trip every twelve years. I'm quite happy about this (and the environmentalist side of me wishes it was even less).
So this trip to Norway was a bit of an adventure. I was there for work, and so I didn't have days to wander off sight-seeing, but I managed to sneak in a little bit anyway.
I stayed in a hotel at the airport, and had a fine view of the runway, and got quite fond of watching the planes take off and land. I was there over the summer solstice - the sun set at 11pm but it never got really dark at all while I was there.
The trip to the top took less than ten minutes, but the walk back down, along a windy road, took well over an hour. I peeked into back gardens and enjoyed the view across the water, and even rang some people for a chat. I'm not used to being away for a week and not talking much.
As I walked back down to the harbour the sun came out, so I sat for a while and watched the boats bobbing around and people drinking and wandering.
Still, there were moments of sunshine, and plenty of snippets of time to enjoy them.
Life back on the ground is miraculous in its own quiet way. There's a goldfinch singing on the telephone wire outside. This morning I picked a single perfect strawberry from the garden. At the local tip I met a man throwing away a pile of boxes after a recent house move - fortunately I caught him before they went into the skip. Slowly, and I know I say this often), things are coming together.
I've started a new page on this blog to keep track of the progress we're making on the house - look up at the top right to find it. More before and after pictures coming soon...