TOUCHDOWN

mrs f and the woodle are home
we drive through the drab eastern suburbs to meet them
watching a huge jumbo jet dropping from the sky
and another soaring improbably upwards
flight
one of humankind's great nature-defying triumphs
one of those achievements we can hold up and say:
'look at us humans - aren't we the greatest!'
like the moon landing
heart transplants
in-vitro fertilisation
digital communications and the internet
virtual reality
the bird's nest stadium in beijing
technological wonders contrived by our big brains
we icaruses who fly too close to the sun
one of those jumbos carries mrs f and woodle
safely home from seoul via paris
unlike the poor devils who perished so horribly
at barajas airport the other day
where mrs f and i were a few years back
suffering nothing worse than a couple of delayed suitcases
after taking a wrong turning
and getting stuck in rush-hour traffic
we roll up to see hannah draped exhausted over a baggage trolley
her eyes barely open
after a month i've almost forgotten what she looks like
kids of course have a certain chameleon-like quality
changing from week to week
but h seems to have shot up
while staying as skinny as ever
her new fringe changes the shape of her face
making her look more oriental than i remember
or maybe it's just that my memory is ropy
and i've got used to looking at caucasian features

hannah won't speak to me in english

she just produces funny little mouse-like squeaks

in response to my questions and comments

h and consequently mrs f have hardly slept on the flight

and are ready to hit the sack as soon as we get home
but bright and early this morning
the woodle is up and at em
hitting the ground running
full of the recharged energy of a five-year-old
back on form