prolific.org » flights

No destination

Caroline — Thu, 27 Apr 2006 01:30:29 +0000

Having wasted most of my week off last week (I guess I needed the downtime, I did feel something approaching ‘human’ by the end of my break.), I intend to fully make use of the next one coming up: May 5-8.

I’ve been trying to book something, anything, anywhere, but can’t make up my mind. Or my mind is made up for me, when the mini break I pick is for couples only.

Flights anywhere seem particularly expensive that weekend, so I’m looking at something a little closer to home. Belgium. Germany. The Netherlands even.

Paris is out, since I’ve got that slotted in for June.

Who needs more than one reason?

Caroline — Sat, 01 Jan 2005 23:13:46 +0000

Aer Lingus is offering 6 Euro flights to Dublin if you book before Thursday and fly before March 16. Return plus taxes it ends up 65 Euro.

Someone gimme a reason.

Update: Got one. Declan O’Rourke plays the Olympia on March 6. Booked. Wish me luck. Got two tickets and… well. Yeah.

seven comments:

Cocktails at the Octagon? I could do that ;-)
e – 01 February 2005 – 15:41

If you don’t, then you’ll be kicking yourself?
Rogue – 01 February 2005 – 17:20

Wait wait wait… I can think of a more profound reason than that [said the student Philosopher]

“We do not regret the chances we take, only the ones we pass by.”
Rogue – 01 February 2005 – 17:21

Booked. I’m going to see Declan O’Rourke at the Olympia.
Caroline (link) – 01 February 2005 – 17:23

I’ve got another reason for you.

There’s an ‘a’ in the month.

There.
Vaughan (link) – 01 February 2005 – 22:48

6 EURO! What an amazing price.

The question is not what excuse do you need to go, but how many times are you going to go before March 16th?

Have fun!
ModSue – 01 February 2005 – 23:21

The road to Mizen head

Caroline — Wed, 07 Jul 2004 02:25:33 +0000

We’re dependant on the network’s reach.

It’s been a while, a week, or more, or less. My head’s been killing me and my shoulders ache in sync. I got a signal outside, he says. How are ya? OK, I say and pause. Continue: moody, up and down like usual.

He says I need a break. I know, I say. I’ve got one coming up in August.

What are my plans, he wants to know. I stretch out on the sofa and listen to his footsteps and the wind blowing as he walks the road to Mizen head. Any further out West and he’d be in Americay.

Marseille, ’cause I like harbours, I proclaim, or maybe Nice, the flights are cheaper. I don’t know and I’ve no money either. It’s tough on your own, I confess.

That’s life, baby.

I remember Mizen head and the journey home — how that man and I listened to the radio as they took Diana to Westminster Abbey. That was the end of that, the golden girl and our tryst laid to rest in one sad week.

Take a train, he says, like he’s read my mind. Like he always does. (“Why don’t you move to Amsterdam?”) I might just do that. Take a train. Travel.

There’s no train to Mizen head.