The farewells.

The night before was nothing like it should've been - the four of us watching a film together, the parents going off to bed, brother and I staying up and watching the Sims/Picard song video on Youtube or putting on an episode of Lost or a few massively camp Bollywood numbers or something. Or just talking in the way we wanted to - nonsensically to anyone but there two of us, so out of the question if somebody's listening. But the cousin turned up, being chirpy, failing to be amused at the film (it was Will Hay), staring at us constantly, talking loudly when we were trying to listen and generally using up time and space that we'd reserved for better purposes. We did, on turning the film off, discover what makes her laugh, namely Mr Bean. We then discovered HIGNFY on G2 and were happy again for a while.

But anyway. After numerous frustations and trials and tribulations, we, meaning the three of us and the rogue element, saw my brother off at the airport at about 12.30pm, three hours after we were supposed to. His flight to Amsterdam was cancelled; he was put on a later one that should still (we hope) enable him to get his connection to Beijing. Then check in for that began about 40 minutes late. We said farewell to him once (more about which further down), then he came back because his hand baggage, though it met KLM's stipulations, did not meet the airport's, which I think is deranged. He had to take everything essential out, put it in a carrier bag and check in his rucksack. It seemed like a stupid and pointless bother - had he tried to take it on at Amsterdam, that would've been fine - but at least he didn't have to leave anything behind.

And, oddly, the delay was in one sense kind of lovely for us - it was an unnecessary hassle for him, though not as worrying as it might've been, but it gave us three extra much-needed hours. Given the circumstances, I think we occasionally made very good use of the time. There were some great moments, some quite lengthy moments, when my cousin got bored and went off elsewhere and it was just us, and we all the more grateful for the time because there was so little of it and because of what had come before. We made all the little in-jokes that you can't say in front of a perpetually listening and questioning stranger, or we just sat there and looked around and nodded in satisfaction because this was how it was supposed to be.

The moment when I came closest to physical violence was when we said goodbye to him for the first time. Having made all our goodbyes and got into the whole sense that we'd said goodbye and that was it, the cousin walked past us, stopped him at the gate - he turned around and said 'What?' in the same tone Mr Darcy does to Miss Bingley in the Andrew Davies adaptation - and engaged him in a long and pointless conversation about where he'll be staying in Beijing. Essentially, she stole the last word with him. I'm probably being massively petty, but it was kind of important to me that we were the last ones to occupy his thoughts before he boarded and to talk to him and the like, and we'd done all that, fixed it in our heads, and she scuppered it. Luckily (sort of), he had to come back, and he was actually quite livid at her and mumbled a lot of things about people who want to be the centre of attention (sadly, not in her earshot). On the second attempt, I put a casual arm against the wall so she couldn't get near, then I did the Prisoner salute and he returned it and then he went away. And now he's in Amsterdam, and I'm pretending he's upstairs. And my father's taken her for a walk, which is why I'm able to write. I want to write masses, but there won't be time.

Basically, I begrudged every second she stole from me that my brother and I could've spent talking. But we did okay all the same.

The farewells.

The night before was nothing like it should've been - the four of us watching a film together, the parents going off to bed, brother and I staying up and watching the Sims/Picard song video on Youtube or putting on an episode of Lost or a few massively camp Bollywood numbers or something. Or just talking in the way we wanted to - nonsensically to anyone but there two of us, so out of the question if somebody's listening. But the cousin turned up, being chirpy, failing to be amused at the film (it was Will Hay), staring at us constantly, talking loudly when we were trying to listen and generally using up time and space that we'd reserved for better purposes. We did, on turning the film off, discover what makes her laugh, namely Mr Bean. We then discovered HIGNFY on G2 and were happy again for a while.

But anyway. After numerous frustations and trials and tribulations, we, meaning the three of us and the rogue element, saw my brother off at the airport at about 12.30pm, three hours after we were supposed to. His flight to Amsterdam was cancelled; he was put on a later one that should still (we hope) enable him to get his connection to Beijing. Then check in for that began about 40 minutes late. We said farewell to him once (more about which further down), then he came back because his hand baggage, though it met KLM's stipulations, did not meet the airport's, which I think is deranged. He had to take everything essential out, put it in a carrier bag and check in his rucksack. It seemed like a stupid and pointless bother - had he tried to take it on at Amsterdam, that would've been fine - but at least he didn't have to leave anything behind.

And, oddly, the delay was in one sense kind of lovely for us - it was an unnecessary hassle for him, though not as worrying as it might've been, but it gave us three extra much-needed hours. Given the circumstances, I think we occasionally made very good use of the time. There were some great moments, some quite lengthy moments, when my cousin got bored and went off elsewhere and it was just us, and we all the more grateful for the time because there was so little of it and because of what had come before. We made all the little in-jokes that you can't say in front of a perpetually listening and questioning stranger, or we just sat there and looked around and nodded in satisfaction because this was how it was supposed to be.

The moment when I came closest to physical violence was when we said goodbye to him for the first time. Having made all our goodbyes and got into the whole sense that we'd said goodbye and that was it, the cousin walked past us, stopped him at the gate - he turned around and said 'What?' in the same tone Mr Darcy does to Miss Bingley in the Andrew Davies adaptation - and engaged him in a long and pointless conversation about where he'll be staying in Beijing. Essentially, she stole the last word with him. I'm probably being massively petty, but it was kind of important to me that we were the last ones to occupy his thoughts before he boarded and to talk to him and the like, and we'd done all that, fixed it in our heads, and she scuppered it. Luckily (sort of), he had to come back, and he was actually quite livid at her and mumbled a lot of things about people who want to be the centre of attention (sadly, not in her earshot). On the second attempt, I put a casual arm against the wall so she couldn't get near, then I did the Prisoner salute and he returned it and then he went away. And now he's in Amsterdam, and I'm pretending he's upstairs. And my father's taken her for a walk, which is why I'm able to write. I want to write masses, but there won't be time.

Basically, I begrudged every second she stole from me that my brother and I could've spent talking. But we did okay all the same.