Airports are full of memories

...and there is no getting away from them. Growing up with a pilot for a Dad and marrying an aero engineer, I seem to be always be reminded of airports, terminals or hangars in some way. These vast open spaces with shiny concrete floors full of people going places, and the smell of Av-gas or aviation fuel is a smell that reminds me of childhood, strong and destinctive. 

Taking off this morning on our first big family adventure, as I watch Ms R sit back relaxing in her seat by the window, more interested in her in-flight entertainment than in the excitement of lifting off the ground, I recollect that I was just the same at her age.

Flying was something I took for granted. I was never fearful (apparently my nappy was changed in the back seat of a small propeller driven plane as a baby). And as this huge tin can takes off to deliver us to the other side of the world, I think, "How lucky we are".

I don't get to fly that often, but when I do, I always think of the pilots. I remember the time when my brother and I sat in the back of a small plane whilst my Dad took a poor guy for a flying lesson. Because you need the extra stress of carrying two small kids in the back when you are learning to fly!!

And now that this brother, my only brother, is getting married to a beautiful woman, I am more grateful than I was as a child for the opportunity to fly in a huge tin can to be part if this special day. Maybe one day my kids will reflect and be grateful for all the amazing experiences we have as children that build memories for a lifetime.

Here we go!