Travelling with Dad does have its perks when it comes to airport lounges. Since Dad was a frequent flier and a gold member of some club whose name eludes me, it puts him on par with first class travellers and so grants him and guests access to the First Class/Business Class lounge while waiting for the departure gates to open. Here the view of the planes and runways are great, free flow of yummy food and drinks and the TV make waiting fun, and the toilets are worthy for me to pee in. For the benefit of people who don't know my idiosyncrasies, I don't like to pee outside because I can't stand dirty toilets, which is why I survive 13 hour flights with nary a toilet trip.

The moment we took our seats on the plane, I started to miss London already. Last year I couldn't wait to go home, but this year all I wanted to do was stay in London for as long as possible. I still have a long life to live though, and like Arnold in Terminator, I'll Be Back. Still, I tried to enjoy the flight as much as possible because I love being in planes, but the return trip was fraught with incessant crying from this young toddler that I wanted to just stuff her in the overhead compartment [I like kids, maybe not as much as the next person, but hours of non-stop crying can get to you] to drown out her cries, and a whiff of vomit as another young girl nearby puked all over her book and dad's leg, but thankfully we were touching down so I didn't have to put up with breathing through my mouth for long. And so, I'm back home in Singapore and looking forward to the next time I can visit London again. For now, I'll content myself with the treasures I've brought back in my extremely heavy bag.