And so it begins….

So. This is a blog?

And all I have to do is write in it/on it/about it everyday?
So that kind of makes it like a diary, but one that the World, his wife and their dog reads.

I see. No pressure then.

Anyhoo, Enough. I’m boring you with my random witterings, so I’d best deliver the goods!

Hello! Welcome to my blog. Come on in, get comfortable. I won’t bite. Hard. Unless provoked, but you’re lucky! Today I’m feeling rather generous, and besides, I’ve eaten already.

I’m Boeingboeingbaby, or BBB for short (like I would actually use my real name!), and I live in the South of France with my husband, who is an airline pilot.

I too work for the same airline as my Husband as Cabin Crew (Hostie, Flight Attendant, Trolley Dolly, Whatever!!!) but I’m grounded as I’m expecting our wee one later on in the year. But if you read my “About me”, you already know that. And if you skipped it, shame on you! Although in all fairness, you didn’t miss much. I mean, what on earth do you write without it sounding like a lonely hearts ad?

Anyway, I digress. The raison d’etre for this bloggy-type-thing is to tell the world what it’s really like being the uber-glamorous wife of a Captain, and an international air-hostess. Ok, so maybe paint-spotted hands, a growing baby bump and cobwebs in my hair isn’t actually that glamorous, but you get my drift.

Actually, it was him indoors that came up with the idea of a blog a while back. I’d been thinking of writing things down, you know, MANUALLY, with a real pen and everything, but apparently it’s not fashionable anymore. SO… I considered a typewriter. Until hubby pointed out that I possess a lovely shiny pink laptop, and suggested I try blogging instead, although whether or not it was a good idea to unleash my witterings on an unsuspecting world remains to be seen.

So, I’m kind of writing this because I am missing the sky a bit lately, and life at 37k below is a little ordinary? Actually, scarp that. REAL. It’s more real. Now, please don’t get me wrong, I’m complaining so much, I mean, I really don’t have it THAT hard, but it is different, and it’s going to take a little getting used to. So, I thought I’d document it. Also, we’ve just moved to rural France, so when the Cat (Captain!!) is away, the Mouse wonders what to do with itself on occasions.

So here I am. Meep Meep (mouse-like noise?). But will it be a case of write now, regret (or cringe??!!! Eek!) later? Who knows?? But hey, it’s worth a go, and I’ll try anything once.

So, what have I done today? Skip packed himself off to the far-east to earn some pennies, so in between online shopping for housey stuff, I’ve been browsing a few other blogs from women in my position (i.e. partners of pilots, not up the duff!!!), for a bit of inspiration. So I read for a bit, and to be honest was a little bit taken aback, because I noticed something they had in common…….

Hostie-bashing. I’m a hostie (albeit a fisher-price weeble one at the mo), so I’ve seen it from the inside, and yes, there ARE a few hosties that probably deserve a smack in the mouth, but for the most part, hey!! We’re not that bad. We’re normal. We have lives. And feelings. And, contrary to popular belief, we’re not all out to bag a pilot/wreck homes/get hammered downroute. OK, so maybe the get hammered downroute thing has a grain of truth in it, but the pilot and home-wrecking thing is definitely a fallacy regarding most of us. I know you may be thinking, “Hang on there Missy… aren’t YOU married to a pilot??!!!”, so, gentle reader, I would like to take this opportunity to point out that I didn’t ever intend to bag me a fly-boy. Have you heard the reputations that some of these guys have??!! A long time ago, way back when I was in hostie school, they warned us about those smooth talking pilot-types, and we even came up with a little slogan to help us remember how to get a poorly pilot away from the controls… “DDF” Don’t. Do. Flightdeck. And “FDA” Flight. Deck. A***holes.
So why would any sensible girl go out courting that kind of trouble, Hmmm??!
Seriously though, What I’m trying to point out is that although stereotypes don’t exist without a reason, you can’t tar everyone with the same brush. I’m not a floozie (although it depends who’s asking, sweetheart! Wink wink!), and my Hubby isn’t your stereotypical pilot. I’d have married my hubby if he’d been a dog-walker, and the way the world is panning out right now, that’s what he could be!! So don’t worry girls! You can unlock your husbands, because for the most part, they’re safe. They’re not Skygods (Yes, Skip, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry love, but you are human, and not immortal!!!), they are just men in a uniform who drive a big flying bus.
And for those of you reading this who go all starry-eyed at the sound of the Captain’s sexy voice coming over the PA system, remember this… He farts in bed just like your boyfriend does!!!

A bientot, mes amis! A demain!! (or see you lot tomorrow, I’m off to bed with a mug of cocoa… Ooh! The Glamour!!)

xoxo

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Tags: cabin crew, flight attendant, Pilot's wife