I tried to embody grace and dignity at the airport arrivals hall, but whoops when boyfriends turn the corner after six weeks of no sighty or no touchy, well-laid plans have been long thrown out the door. I think I actually skipped over the institutional-white tiles of Brisbane International. I couldn’t stop grinning, and after I entangled myself from a well-overdue embrace, I remembered that poor old Dan was with two friends who I should also give appropriate welcoming gestures to. I offered a much-received lift home, for the non-traveller-friendly hour of 11pm.
I grinned all the way home.
