The day started early with a taxi to Stafford – as we travel along an almost empty A34, I’m thinking about that time last year I actually ran from Stafford back to Stoke. I spot the section of the pavement where a small child gave me a thumbs up, encouraging me to keep going. It seems a long way by car this morning. Maybe I’ll get back to running that far again soon?
Then it’s on to the train and down to the airport in Birmingham, arriving a couple of hours before my flight to Dakar via Paris, returning to Senegal for another trip with work. I’m on my third mode of transport before 8am with the monorail from the station to check-in. This time it is a lot less stressful – my passport firmly in my possession for the duration, unlike the almost-disastrous start to my trip last December.
Time passes quickly – Jimmy Anderson on audiobook for company as I wait for the flight to depart, talking about his first time playing at the Basin Reserve in Wellington just as we’re ready to take off. I was there that day, I think to myself. That was a special week in my life too.
And then almost as soon as we’ve taken off, it is time to land at Charles De Gaulle. No delays, quickly off the plane. Following the transfer signs and through security again – Zone M this time, so at least a different place in the airport to explore.
And there are 4 hours until boarding starts for my next flight.
Lots of time to fill in an airport terminal.
How to occupy myself. And not use up all the battery in my phone and headphones.
An early saturday flight meant missing parkrun this morning… so first up, some exercise. I set myself the challenge of completing 5k – airport terminals aren’t really conducive to a run, but from one end of the terminal turned out to be about 800m – so I walked up and down 6 times, passing the same shops and cafes and having to jump out of the way of the passenger assistance buggies a couple of times. I’m not sure it would pass the requirements for a parkrun risk assessment but it worked, and I was one hour closer to boarding for my next flight.
After all that exercise, it was time for some fresh air and then a sit down. There are a couple of places to get “outside” with a bit of green, but the outside spaces are essentially designated smoking areas… so not somewhere I wanted to linger too long. Instead, I found a comfy chair with a charging point and set to recharging myself and my phone. Good job I remembered by adapter in my hand luggage.
Another hour closing to boarding, I made my way back to the centrally located airport art gallery/museum, and a special exhibition of the photos of Henri Cartier-Bresson. For a few moments, I wasn’t killing time in an airport; I was transported through time and travelling around the world… photographs of France, Italy, Germany, Mexico, Japan, United States, India. Most of the key moments of the 20th Century captured in black and white images. I lingered in the cool of the gallery – slowly taking in the images and the stories of the people pictured; the passion and philosophy of the photographer evident in what was shown. Before today, I’d never come across his work before. Now I want to find out more.
Another hour goes by. Not long until the gate opens for boarding. Time now to walk around the shops – and resist the temptation to but macarons by the box load.
And then it was back to dot watching – my 4 hours in Paris complete.
This post is part of a series capturing the essence of the 27 Hours in Twizel blog – when we found ourselves in a an unlikely tourist destination for 27 hours and found 27 reasons to stay.
And it’s also part of my 52 for 52 in 2025 blogging challenge. This week it’s Finding the Edge by Jimmy Anderson (with Felix White). I listened on Audible.
27 Hours In Twizel 