returned

Back from a lovely holiday in Canada, and missing the glorious mountains and waterways of Vancouver. Easing myself into domestic life, bracing myself for a serious effort to release copious amounts of weight - this seems to be a recurring theme. While on holiday decided that rather than finally finish what I refer to as my backboiler book, I'd rewrite one whose story I still believe in, applying the techniques I've learned since finishing it four years ago. The decision feels good, especially as I've set myself a deadline of Christmas.

I will, however, give myself time to recover from jet lag, a concept which remains fascinating to me. We arrived in Vancouver at 8 pm, local time, 4 am UK time. After checking into our hotel, my son and I went to find something to eat. I wanted to sleep, but as he was starving, this was more important. We found a pizzeria, ordered him a pizza. In the middle of his third slice, he suddenly dissolved into fatigue-induced giggles, and I had to physically help him back to the hotel and make sure he got to his room. His appetite was haywire for several days, any attempts at eating dinner at the usual time futile as he still seemed to be on UK time food wise. I fared better with meals but had difficulty sleeping for more than a couple of hours at a time. When my partner arrived - having missed his flight from Montreal, requiring him to stay overnight, he was less disorientated having had a night's sleep with only a five hour time difference. Back in Edinburgh again, I am only capable of frequent napping.

I am reminded of the time when my parents visited me in New Zealand. We were expecting them on the Tuesday and I'd prepared a welcome lunch. They didn't turn up, we waited, and it was only later that day that I remembered they were crossing the International Date Line and had effectively lost a day. They'd forgotten this, only being reminded by the pilot's announcement that it was now Wednesday. Not being blessed with a scientific mind, I struggle to work out how someone can actually lose a day.

I suppose our circadian rhythms must be respected. Apparently some planes now provide different forms of light to mimic what their passengers would expect. On our overnight flight to London, on which we'd vaguely calculated that we'd be flying in darkness for four hours, the blinds were kept down until the crew were ready to serve breakfast. Very sensible.

For more photos of Canada, check out my photo blog, Solas - details on the right hand bar of this blog.

Jane