The Day Before The Day Before Xmas

Katie arrives and Eitan and I greet her at Heathrow.  The flight delayed and the queue at Border Control nets a couple of hours before little 'sis pops up.  During this interval, which is well past the boy's bedtime, Eitan fades into various moods of euphoria, fatigue, giddiness and silliness.  (Surprisingly) grumpiness not on the list.  We entertain ourselves with numbers games (times-tables and divisions), thumb-wrestling and singing (to the amusement of the Pakis who also await their travelers).  Eitan realises he wears pajama tops ("Aw, Dad -- this is so silly of me"). 


I fascinate myself with various shapes and forms before us - following the long-haul flight, I appreciate, most not their best still it strikes me how unattractive the human race.  All this money spent on botox and make-up or clothes - better in the bank. Yet there is beauty in the masses: families unite, lovers squeeze and friends whoop.  


Eitan and I check out the older dude with white beard, skinny tie, with cane and unsmoked pipe (Eitan: "He is definitely a spy or something"). Or the Japanese with tight black trousers, funky trainers and shiny faux-down jacket, purple of course.  His hair a gelled mess. Cool. I scope the outliers - younger women with chop-stick legs, painted jeans and high-heels; usually with scarf thrown across chest and casual make-up.  Greeted by drivers or boyfriends - where to?  I make a final point of reviewing glasses - yes, my vanity.  I have been four eyes since 1986 and interesting how specs change.  I love my Buddy Holly blacks.



Eitan: "Ew, Dad! I can see the dandruff in your hair!" (Very loudly)
Eitan: "You look awfully silly in that hat."
Eitan: "You arae going bald, you know."
Eitan: "What is taking that woman so long?"