2 phrases you do not want to hear on an airplane

Hello there, how are you today?
Me? Well, I am back in Kabul and enjoying a lovely sunny day. Incredibly, the temperature seems to have risen around 40C since January and we are now basking in glorious sunshine.
It is the Afghan New Year and there is a general holiday, the streets are empty, no pedestrians, no cars and more importantly, the office is empty.
In some ways it is quite eerie as the warm weather has brought the return of the DUST. Yes, dust is a very important part of Kabul life. It gets everywhere and covers everything. With no traffic or people there is a gentle breeze and as I look out my window there are small billows of brown being blown gently down the empty street. The soil is not only incredibly fine (like talcum powder) but seems to avoid sustaining any life at all costs. So the street is completely bare. Just the dusty dirt road, high walls and little brown clouds. I expected there to be kite flyers out today, but maybe everyone is inside celebrating.
So today I have been sitting in the garden working from home and enjoying the rays. In fact, it was so, so sunny this afternoon I could not see the screen on the laptop and had to resort to reading a book. Currently, I have Bill Bryson's "Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid" on the go. For anyone who grew up in 50's USA or 60's UK it will transport you back to a youth and time before the advent of the computer and "gameboys". A simpler time when children actually went outside and played, a time when we were indestructible and needed no helmets, knee pads, softened play areas and warning labels. When there were few rules and almost anything went. But, as ever, I digress.
Digressing is a good sign, I hope, and shows that my addled brain of February has been revitalised and replaced with one of clarity and a penchant for a tale. I think the Monkees singing "Daydream Believer" is also helping the general mood here. So, although we have not managed to leave the confines of the house and garden today, in the world of Kabul the sun is shining and it is as good as it gets. Even the restaurant/bar round the corner has re-opened and although getting in is now a test of patience and good nature, at least it is open again.
As for the title to this missive, let me take you back a couple of days to my departure from dear old Blighty and my eventual arrival in Kabul.
You are now accustomed to these journeys having their, shall we say, interesting diversions and the fact that they are never quite what they seem. Well this one again did not disappoint. I left Heathrow Terminal 3 at 8pm UK time on the Emirates flight to Dubai. An fairly uneventful journey except there was a good tail wind and we arrived in Dubai a little early. We flew overnight and arrived at 2.30am UK time (6.30am Dubai time). Unfortunately having given us dinner etc, then happily serving breakfast at 1am UK time, I only had about 2 hours sleep max on the plane. However, I arrived OK, went from Dubai terminal 1 (proper terminal for proper airlines to proper places) and I got a taxi to terminal 2 (dodgy terminal for dodgy airlines to dodgy places)
After recent experiences I had booked the UN flight from Dubai to Kabul. What could possibly go wrong? After all, the UN is a reputable organisation, if not a well known airline operator.
We took off at midday Dubai time (8am UK time, still only 2 hours sleep) and headed for Kabul, Afghanistan. OK, only a couple of hours and we will be back at the Kabul Ex-Pat house and can get some sleep.
Now there are many phrases you do not want to hear when you are sitting on a plane. One of the general ones that applies to all planes in all places is "we appear to have a problem with one of the engines". Another, that is more uniquely Afghan, is "we are diverting to Kandahar". Now, even those of us that for some inexplicable reason think that living and working in Kabul is acceptable, know that Kandahar rhymes with Helmand in the list of places that are not good places to be diverted to. OK, it was good enough for our illustrious Prince Harry and whats good for the goose etc. So within 15 minutes of these announcement we are dropping down into Kandahar. So when these two phrases are uttered in the same sentence, we all sit and look at each other as if to say "this was not part of the deal".
We land at the airport/airbase which is a big military base with lots of very interesting things all around us. I shall not specify what aircraft and flying things were there, but suffice to say I saw lots of things I have only seen on news bulletins and I did not even know were here.
We sat on the runway waiting while they checked over the engine and refuelled the plane. Unfortunately, we were not allowed off for a wander round, which would have been interesting, however the thing that was really taxing our minds was the time. It takes an hour to get to Kabul and planes are not allowed to fly into Kabul after dark (its a Taleban surface to air missile thing!) and we can see the clock ticking down while they fiddled with the plane. We were quite intrigued, if we could not go on to Kabul, where could you put up 150 unexpected ex-Pats in Kandahar? We looked and looked, but no airport hotel seemed to be there to greet us.
As we all began to speculate more and more and 4.30pm (Afghan time) loomed large we began to start treating this as a serious question, where would we go? At 4.28pm the pilot announced we were leaving, the tanker withdrew, the man with a screwdriver at the engine ran away and with the seat belt sign still off and the doors still open, the engines fired up. It was a very swift run up the taxiway and we were off, heading for Kabul arriving just as dusk fell.
The airport was closed and we were shown into the UN special lounge, our passports stamped and we were released onto an unsuspecting Kabul. My driver was in the car park, we picked up our guard as we left the airport and we headed for the house. It was just after 6pm (1.30pm UK time), the light was fading fast, and I was back at my Kabul "home" arriving for the last time. In 6 weeks I shall leave for the last time. I shall miss these little exciting diversions, not a lot.