Delusions of glamour

I flew up to see my fiance on Friday - a very quick visit using flights transferred from the volcanoed trip last weekend.

I had worked all day and jumped in the car to get to the airport in time. I was still in my work clothes and feeling pretty grubby, carrying a whole load of work with me. Ahead of me in queue were two beautiful people, joined at the neck it semed and very much in love. She was dressed in a very chic travelling outfit complete with sexy heels, carrying only a handbag. He carried a bag, which I assume was for both of them. And there was I, tired, bedraggled and with bigger bags under my eyes than my handbaggage that I was lugging around, painfully. Whilst the beautiful people had been chatting in departures over a coffee, I had been shuffling papers on a nearby table, trying to ignore noisy hen-parties and do some of the urgent marking that had to be done this weekend.

It reminded me of my frequent wish in my first few years of teaching. I longed for what we called a 'hand bag job'. You could work at a desk all day, so it was possible to look glamorous in killer heels and all you had to take to work was a handbag. You didn't have to lug huge bags of work to and from home and sensible shoes wouldn't be necessary to avoid crippling you.

On the plane, I was confronted by yet more glamour. The air hostesses always amaze me. Not only are they only a size 8-10 (as they need to be that narrow to fit easily down the aisle) but they are on their feet all day with heels on and they always seem to have perfect make up. To be fair, most of them do seem to have taken make-up lessons from Jordan and have tans that are a little on the orange side, but still. Smiles perfectly planted in place all day. I wondered if they have make-up lessons at stewardess school.

On the way home, I was stunned by a rare example of male glamour. There was a very well spoken gentleman with his daughter waiting at the gate and I was just fascinated by him. I've never seen anyone like him in real life before! He looked as though he had come dressed up as a parody of an English gent. He was wearing a pink polo shirt and lemon cardigan. On top he had a blue blazer, complete with a red rose in the lapel. (And this was St George's day weekend, too!) His trousers were green tartan and he wore penny loafers. I just had to keep looking at him out of the corner of my eye. Was he for real? It seemed so, after closer inspection. I was just stunned by him. Why wasn't he on a private jet for this journey? Again, here I was with my scruffy jeans and hair all over the place. I wasn't sure that I felt dressed well enough to be on the same flight as these two!

One day I will be a real girl and put make-up on and everything before I go to the airport!