Do you remember fax machines? Yes, fax machines. Before there were iPhones, before there was instant digital messaging and when email was in it’s infancy, there were fax machines. Messages were written on paper, put into a fax machine and transmitted over phone lines, to be reproduced, on paper, at the receiver’s end. It was high tech. In fact it was state of the art. I’m reminded of fax machines because I am sitting on an airplane. Why is that, you might ask and rightly so. Well years ago, when there was less digital and more clackety clack, I worked with a gentleman called John. John travelled a lot for business and when he sat on airplanes, he had nothing better to do than sit and think. Think about all manner of schemes and projects and methods of handling projects, (most of them harebrained), that we might pursue. And when I say “we”, I mean “me”! So he would sit on the plane and fill copious sheets of paper, with all manner of crazy leads, suggestions and instructions, (mostly the latter), which, as soon as he landed and had access to a fax machine, he would send to me, to follow up. I came to dread those days that followed John’s departure and arrival at some far-off exotic spot. I also learned to decommission the fax machine, to coincide with John’s flights. 
I’m reminded of it now, because I’m sitting on an airplane. I’m sitting on an airplane and thinking, and my mind is wandering back over the last two weeks and my first visit to Hawaii. A visit of contrasts, peace and bustle, sunshine and starlight, mountains and sea. A time with friends, a time for relaxing, a time to absorb the heat of the sun. Yes, I know that’s not what my readers from the storm swept coasts of the north Atlantic want to read, but there you are. The heat of the sun it was.

   
 Kauai was peaceful, rural, delicious. We strolled the beaches, we sat out to watch the sunsets and the night skies, and we walked the hills. We watched the high rolling waves crash and the surfers ride and crash with them. We watched the blowholes spout and splash, and the whales rise and dive. We swam and snorkelled and drank beer and ate ice-cream and warm fresh-baked cinnamon rolls. Kauai was delicious.

   
 Oahu was bustling and exciting. The Pearl Harbour centre is fascinating, sombre and teeming with interest. It is not only a museum, but a historical monument, memorial and tomb to many servicemen, lost in the great Pacific conflict of the second world war. By contrast, the resort area was full of colour, laughter, splash, music and fun. We filled our days with water-slides, pools, hot tubs, food and drink. We did manage to slip away to see Waikiki beach and to climb the volcanic cauldron of Diamond Head, to it’s summit at 760 feet, for stunning views over Honolulu, Waikiki and right across the island to the eastern mountains.  

    
 So I’m on a plane thinking. Thinking about Hawaii. Thinking about the friends and the fun and the novelty and the charm of it all. And, I suppose, thinking about the future. The next step. New Zealand. Yes, I’m on a plane, going to New Zealand. Happy memories behind. Great expectations ahead. Aloha.