on the right side of the sunshine and rain

It's raining in France now. I have a friend who's stuck in a mobile home with her kids and ex. A test of their new healthy non-marriage, as they stare out at the  endless rain. It's raining there, it's sunny here now, and when we went, we got pretty good weather and left rain behind. Such falling into place of the cosmos for me!

We travelled there uneventfully after travelling the gauntlet of Dublin airport. You don't have to take your shoes off any  more, but now you have to rush up and down the roped off switchback while women with Eastern European accents shout at you to keep moving, in angry tones. Surrounded by alarmed families, herding young children and towing carry on luggage, I saw one stressed out guy turn and snap at his aged, mother to hurry up, as she stumbled behind him. I hope this isn't too tasteless, but there was more than a little aura of the death camp about it.

Did I mention we were flying Ryanair?

Actually, it was fine. I don't  need leg room anyway. The landing was fast and bumpy, and then ended with a funny little recorded toodilytootdetoo! trumpet noise, which I thought was ironic considering the mad quality of the landing - but it was just celebrating a timely arrival.

Then there was the Ryanair 1940s style walk across the tarmac. But in this case, it was magic. The airport was a little far away, but the I could feel the sun baking through my cords and warming my bum. At 9.45 in the morning. Ahhh.

Half an hour into the flight I realised with a jolt of horror that I'd forgotten the address and phone number of the house and its owner and had no clue as to where we were staying. I calmed down and reasoned that I could just check my gmail at the airport (I've done this before, unsurprisingly). But then the airport was teeny and prefabricated and did not have so much as an ATM. So I threw myself on the mercy of a family with a Blackberry, got the number, and masterfully sent texts and received directions in French.

Go me.