I've blogged about airports before.

I was at the airport about a month ago.

I learned again how much you can lose at an airport.

My dearest friend was off home to the UK to sort a few things out and decide what she was going to do with herself. You need the support of family for some things and this was one of them.

Right now she's in Russia, having just caught the Trans-Siberian railway from Beijing. She's going home via eastern Europe. She's walked through the snow in the Gobi and she's going to the Bolshoi for her birthday.

Not a bad way to discover yourself, really.

Happy birthday, Linz. I miss you more than I can possibly say here and I'm so proud of you for making the decisions and taking the steps you have. Deep in my selfish heart, I hope that you'll not be able to resist the lure of the sun and people down here and that there will be raucous pints at the Duck once more. But if not, you'll just have to show me your local instead.

I'm going to the again airport later today. This time no-one is leaving me, and no-one will come to see me off. Instead they will walk with me through the check in and will come with me through those intimidating metal doors through to customs. They will hold my hand as we take off, they will wait beside me at the baggage carousel and through delays and searches and boredom.

My best friends are travelling the world. One on the other side of it, the other by my side.

Not a bad way to discover yourself at all.