After two weeks in the UK, I was actually looking forward to returning to Singapore. The first leg of the Qatar flight to Doha was packed to the gunwales. I sat next to a sizeable gentleman who did not visit the toilet at any time in seven hours; unable to clamber past the obstruction, the chap to his left in the window seat suffered the same fate. The guy in front (whom I shall call ‘Dick’), had placed his seat in my lap from the moment the wheels left the runway at Heathrow.
While other passengers watched blockbuster films and cartoons, I was in the mood for something a little more stimulating. Thanks to Dick, the screen in front was so close that I had to wear reading glasses to search through some of the uncharted areas of the entertainment menus before I found the 1951 classic, ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’. Set in the dingy backstreets of post-war New Orleans, the story describes the decline of Blanche DuBois as she tries to escape her dubious past in search of solace as a brief diversion on her way to insanity. If I catch Mrs M avoiding the light in the future, I shall know why. It was an unforgettable film that has stimulated a desire to find out more about the author, the director and actors, as well as the story behind the production and some of the underlying themes, which pushed the boundaries in the early 1950s. I am sure Iron Man 3 would have had the same effect.
Doha was once again like a zoo but bearable on this occasion with only a two-and-a-half hour wait for the second leg of the journey to Singapore. The connecting flight was crammed with holiday makers destined for Bali who were required to leave the aircraft in Changi while it was cleaned. As passengers often use arrival at an airport as an excuse to pass wind, I hoped the cabin smelled a little fresher when they returned to their seats.
While other passengers watched blockbuster films and cartoons, I was in the mood for something a little more stimulating. Thanks to Dick, the screen in front was so close that I had to wear reading glasses to search through some of the uncharted areas of the entertainment menus before I found the 1951 classic, ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’. Set in the dingy backstreets of post-war New Orleans, the story describes the decline of Blanche DuBois as she tries to escape her dubious past in search of solace as a brief diversion on her way to insanity. If I catch Mrs M avoiding the light in the future, I shall know why. It was an unforgettable film that has stimulated a desire to find out more about the author, the director and actors, as well as the story behind the production and some of the underlying themes, which pushed the boundaries in the early 1950s. I am sure Iron Man 3 would have had the same effect.
Doha was once again like a zoo but bearable on this occasion with only a two-and-a-half hour wait for the second leg of the journey to Singapore. The connecting flight was crammed with holiday makers destined for Bali who were required to leave the aircraft in Changi while it was cleaned. As passengers often use arrival at an airport as an excuse to pass wind, I hoped the cabin smelled a little fresher when they returned to their seats.
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