Nothing to see here, folks

Just moved to a hotel at CDG airport, for a more civilized start in the morning. Heading to Dubai for a few days on our jet lag free return to our time zone.

So nothing left but to give a quick rundown on the motley crew we travelled with.

Starting with the tour leader, she was moderately well organised. Nobody could be as chaotic as the lady from Northern Spain. As a complete Segway, the tour leader in Northern Spain is the cousin of the actress who plays the hot Spanish wife on ‘Modern Family’ on tv.

Anyway, the latest tour guide is a French lady with a posh English private school accent.

We had the obligatory spectrum team mate. This guy is from Australia. If you are aware of Tintin, you will know about the bumbling twin detectives, Thompson and Thomson. In France, they are called DuPond and DuPont. This guy has a bottlebrush moustache and two hearing aids he keeps misplacing. Our guy reminds me of them. I have called him DuPont. We’re in France, after all.

There are a few other Australians, couples and singles.

Then there are the Canadians. I think just a couple and one single guy. The couple are an odd lot. The husband is an absolute short-arse, and most people thought he had short man syndrome. He looks a little like Ernie Douglas from “My Three Sons”. That’s showing my age. He can’t stand still, I think just trying to fill as much space as possible.

There was an Indian mother and daughter from Mumbai. Nice ladies.

I think most of the rest were Amrikans, and the demographic is my age and older, and my fitness level or lower. Some days it’s like a mobile retirement village. The only thing missing was the smell of cabbage and urine.

There was a couple of guys who are great fun. Gay, but the good kind. The kind when you can spend the whole trip wondering if they are or not. More importantly, the kind where it doesn’t matter, and you don’t care.

Let’s be honest. Whether I have one particular proclivity over another doesn’t make me more or less of an asshole, and doesn’t make me better or worse at my job. It should be completely irrelevant.

Not the kind of gay where their sexuality is their entire identity, and their personality bathes in it.  That type are a complete pain in the arse. (Pun not necessarily intended). They are constantly searching for validation, so everyone around them is terrified that they are not affirming them as effusively as is required.

But these guys are great. One is quiet, and wields a long lens, the other is the life of the party. He and I tease each other mercilessly. Probably in their 50s or early 60s.

So that’s it.

We’ll talk again, dear readers, from Dubai, and again from Singapore