Blind joy

There's this thing I do with the blinds on the front door. We are blessed with pink vertical blinds on the front sliding glass door ...... hey - I found them here, OK? - and every night when Rob and I retire to the unit I close them. It's my way of saying "we're home now - do not disturb". And every morning I leave them closed until such time as I'm up and dressed and ready to start the day. It's my way of saying "we're still home - do not disturb".

But it seems I'm the only one who knows about my vertical blind thing. Last Sunday morning the blinds were closed but the door slightly open so that Kacee could get out. I was at the kitchen sink, barefoot and clad in my PJs when I hear this loud gruff "hoy!" It was one of the crew looking for Rob.

So - a quick scramble for my robe and I emerge from behind the drawn blinds - isn't Rob in the office? I ask sweetly. Now I am obviously more of a sound sleeper than I thought - Rob had left at 4am to take a pilot for a boarding and I didn't hear him leave. So, joys of being the manager's wife, I offer to help by calling Rob and try to sort out the problem over the phone. Done.

Back inside to get breakfast, blinds still drawn. I look up to see another crew member ambling over. I go to greet him - thankfully I had decided to leave the robe on - and to tell him that Rob is out. He knows, but he's on for a chat. BTW - this deckie never chats, I'm flat out getting a boo out of him. But this morning he's eager to tell me about his studies and how I should meet his mum because she and I would get on.

So I listen politely, and yes I was interested but my porridge is getting gluggy and I need to get ready for church. So after a decent interval I excuse myself and this time I not only draw the blinds but I close and lock the door as well. So much for eating breakfast al fresco.

But you know what? I love it. It's not always like that. Most days I do get to open the blinds when I'm ready and most days Rob and I do enjoy an outdoor meal or two. Martin had a problem, I was glad I could help. And if DJ felt like talking, I was glad that he felt comfortable enough to come over and chat.

The pilot house is a small community in itself. There's pilots, crew, staff and management. There's a range of  personalities, egos and temperaments. Some of us have settled in nicely and some of us are still finding our way. But what's important is that whatever happens, when it happens, it's nice to know that we can call on each other for help, or a chat, or just to be there - regardless of whether the blinds are drawn or open.

Living in a small community - life is good.