Planet Earth

So, I got a new phone yesterday. Isn't it infuriating how some of your numbers go onto the phone memory and some onto the sim card – which means that when you change your mobile you have to find out who's where and transfer them accordingly, or risk losing them forever. My evening, therefore, was spent trying to figure out what numbers needed transfering (and who needed dumping from my phone and my world) while watching Sunday's Planet Earth. This week's episode was all about the jungle, and was full of amazing shots of funghi growing out of insects and chimps eating their brethren. One sequence that I actually put my new mobile down for involved a bird of paradise doing a mating dance. It was staggering. This little black thing suddenly puffed itself out to reveal the most dazzling blue feathers while hopping up and down in front of a thoroughly underwhelmed female (ladies, eh?).
Just as interesting, was the behind-the-scenes footage of the poor sod who actually had to spend weeks of his life in a hide waiting for the shot. Sometimes he'd be in his makeshift tent for nine hours at a stretch, just watching and waiting, waiting and watching. I was surprised that he didn't start hallucinating, mistaking a falling leaf for the female of the species, imagining that a twig was some kind of furry being.
It made me think about when I used to live abroad and I'd go and pick people up from the airport. I'd get there (usually too early, story of my life) and jostle for position by the arrival doors. And then I'd wait. And wait. And then my heart would skip and I'd think 'Oh there she is' (I'm thinking about my sister, who was my most frequent visitor), only to realise that actually, while it looked a bit like Tracy, it wasn't in fact her. Then I'd wait a bit more and it would happen again. 'Oh, goodie, here she comes', and of course that wouldn't be her either. And this would go on and on, every time the doors opened to let out more arrivees. It would eventually get to the point where my eyes and brain were so fatigued by waiting I'd look at a 70-year-old man in glasses and a zimmer frame and squeal to myself 'oh, she's arrived at last', so my heart goes out to the Planet Earth cameraman.
Anyway, it's Tuesday and cold at last.