Four hours on a plane from Manchester to Istanbul. Four hours of a teeny tiny seat with about 2 inches of legroom. Four hours in a pressurised tube with poorly functioning air conditioning. Four hours with a small child kicking me in the small of my back. And crying.
And now I'm four hours into my layover at Istanbul airport. With four hours left to go. And guess how long the flight to Najaf is going to take...
2 hours.
Actually feel a little disappointed by that, all the fours were getting to be a bit comforting.
So, at this point duty free madness is starting to settle in. It's all shiny and sparkly and artfully designed so you can't go 2 paces without the magpie in you going "Ooooh, look at the pretty!". And so far I have spent an obscene amount of money on useless luxury goods. Do I really need that handcream? Is that mascara really better than any of the other, cheaper versions I could have picked up in any Boots? But my magpie tells me that it's ok, that it's worth it for the shine glinting off the packaging, that I couldn't have got it cheaper elsewhere, and that I really do deserve it.
And on that note, I think I might go shopping again.
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