Birds in Winter

Birds in winter

Dallas Berge

Cute birds. Super-cute birds. And they shared his name.
Robin had seen more Christmas cards than he could remember with the red-breasted bird on the front cover. Chirping away, happy, he supposed. Would he ever see a real one?
It was cold, just 2 degrees above freezing, but the heating in the house made it hard to believe that was the temperature. Robin’s neighbours were unlikely to be feeling the cold. If they were even at home. Probably, they were sunning themselves in St Lucia or some other tropical paradise. It was what the people of Toorak did, if they weren’t skiing somewhere equally exotic.
Robin didn’t think too much about what his neighbours did. He was only house-minding after all, as a way to save some pennies. One day, not too far away now, he would be on his way to his own exotic place. Well, exotic for him. Robin had finally booked his flight to England, where he would at last see these birds he remembered from his childhood. He dreamed of tramping across snow-covered fields, on his way to the ‘local’ and passing by copses and forests where his beloved robins would be.
A few months later, Robin was able to close the door of the house for the last time. It had served its purpose. Some friends had tried to talk him out of giving up his own flat and doing house-minding, but it was a means to an end.
When the jumbo jet lifted its front wheel off the tarmac and majestically rose into the air, he was thrilled. It was to be a long journey, with a brief stopover in Chicago, but at least he was on his way. Fortunately, it was an overnight flight, so Robin was not far from being ready to sleep, and after a bland but adequate meal and a glass of wine, he managed to sleep, if fitfully.
He felt a tapping on his shoulder. “Sir, would you like breakfast?” Robin blinked his eyes open and said “Yes, thank you.” Rubbery ‘scrambled eggs’ were washed down with orange juice and coffee, and it seemed only seconds after that his tray was taken away and the passengers were instructed to fasten their seatbelts for the descent into Chicago.
There wasn’t a lot to do. There was a connection to London Heathrow, albeit with a different airline, but Robin had no need to go through customs and immigration. Just a slightly dazed bit of downtime in the transit lounge before it was time to trudge to the boarding gate. It was a smaller aeroplane this time, so a little more cramped, but the flight was to be only 6-and-a-half hours.
This time, despite his slightly woozy state, Robin sat up awake and tried to amuse himself by flicking through the channels on his inflight TV. Occasionally, the aircraft seemed to lurch a bit, and one time this almost resulted in an air hostess throwing a cup of coffee over a passenger. But otherwise, it seemed pretty normal, even for Robin.
Then the plane suddenly dropped with a thunk, and began to almost bounce up and down, as if smashing itself up and down on concrete. “Ladies and gentleman. We are encountering some turbulence. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”
No problem for Robin. He was already in his seat.
The turbulence seemed to go on and on, and a poor little girl seated not far away from Robin vomited over the person next to her, who fortunately made little fuss. No air hostesses could come to clean it up. After what felt like an eternity, the flight became more smooth. The cabin crew were able to move around, although the fasten seat belts sign was still on. Then there was an announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Due to adverse weather conditions over the North Atlantic, we are unable to continue on our flight path to London Heathrow and will be stopping at Reykjavik airport in Iceland. Please be assured that, if required, appropriate arrangements for accommodation in Reykjavik will be made, should we be unable to continue this journey.”
Well, this wasn’t part of the plan. But it looked like, if he were to be stuck in Reykjavik, the accommodation would be sorted out.
Not too long later, there was another announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts as we are about to begin our descent into Reykjavik.”
It was again a bumpy ride, but the aircraft touched down smoothly and taxied to its spot. All around him, voices were full of questions, directed at the cabin crew. “What will happen with our luggage?” “How long do you think we’ll be here?”
It became clear that there would be at least an overnight stay in Reykjavik, with a possible departure in the late afternoon the next day. A volcano with a bizarre-sounding name had erupted a few days before, and its ash cloud had drifted south quite a distance with a forecast of drifting north-east, necessitating a delay in travel onward toward the UK.
Oh well. Robin had booked a hotel near Heathrow for the night, with a plan to travel by train to the Lake District the next day. He shrugged. Maybe Reykjavik would be a nice place, and the situation with the hotel near London could be sorted. Amongst a small sea of disgruntled passengers, Robin was ferried from Reykjavik airport to a hotel nearby.
It was OK. The hotel was fine, and there was a restaurant in-house. Thankfully not one with such local delights as half deer head on a plate – an Icelandic specialty. In the morning, Robin would find out how soon he could leave.
It was to be a late afternoon flight, and the unexpected guests were offered an opportunity to visit Reykjavik’s famed ‘Blue Lagoon’.  The cost of this was not to be covered by the airline, but Robin saw no reason to not do it. He could figure out a way to trim his expenditure in England. When he got there.
The bus provided, despite its heating system, was chilly. What would the Blue Lagoon be like? Would it be worth it?
It was. An extraordinary, huge expanse of hot water, in natural surrounds, brimming with people slathering the nutrient-rich mud provided over their faces. Robin lay back and smiled. He was warm and relaxed: for now, in seventh heaven. And he would leave with skin as soft as the proverbial baby’s bum.  He just hoped his new fresh-faced appearance wouldn’t scare the birds in England away.