RIght. I was wanting to post something more uplifting before I spotted the trademark handiwork of ghastly spammers at work. So now to the proper blog!
Arriving home was something I was not so keen on as I had rarely been away on my own before and not greeted at the front door at the very latest, though I was usually met at the airport. As ever, my worries were unfounded. It seems to be with this bereavement business our anticipation of events is worse than the event itself. I was quite in need of fresh air after the hours spent in the departure airport, the aircraft, the arrival airport.
This reminds me of the time I surprised Laing by meeting him after a trip he made to Greece, I think it was. In those days we did individual holidays as well as joint ones. Having debt we could keep chucking on the credit cards and they kept upping the credit limits did have some advantages. Anyway, although William was Laing’s first name, it was also a pet name, and you will need to know me very well to know the full story behind that, he never used it except on official forms. I had a sheet of paper with WILLIAM in large coloured in letters, like children would do. The smile on his face when he saw the notice was wonderful, and the originator of the idea, again you will need to know me better to know about that, was given a very special hello-and-thank-you-for-coming-to-the-airport.
Anyhow, Heathrow still seems to be designed to make my life unbearable by fair means or foul. Our arrival gate was miles from passport control, groan one. Fortunately as a premium passenger I was offered fast track which I took as the queue was only 4 or 5 persons long and there were 3 desks open - negate that groan! I got Mr. Grumpy but managed to make him smile.
“What time did you start today?”
“Five-thirty.”
“Oh, you’re on the late shift then?”
His wry smile said it all.
After that I waited forever for my bag to come off. If it weren’t for these liquid rules and regulations we have in place now, I would have just wheeled my way off the plane and out into the world. The baggage handlers, as usual, refused to get my priority tagged bag off the plane and onto the carousel in preference to the rest of the passengers. It is personal you know! This in direct contrast to Dulles, where all priority bags were off the carousel before the other bags were on it.
From plane to baggage was a mere 15 minutes or so (and a very long walk at that). Waiting for my baggage in the stuffy reclaim area was nearly 20 minutes more. Nonetheless, I got it and made my way to the very expensive Heathrow Express back to Paddington where I hung around in the open air for some considerable time. There is nothing like fresh air, nothing at all.
The tube workers must be associated with the baggage handlers at having a hate campaign against me as well. Our train pulled in to Platform 1 (I think) at Edgware Road and the next train was on 2 and then we were told the train coming in on 3 (over the footbridge) was the next Eastbound. I was not going to lug my baggage up and down stairs again having to struggle down the stairs at the Hammersmith and City. I nodded off a fair bit but was awake at Moorgate to be ready to get off at Liverpool Street. The first Central Line train was not mine, and I am not going to get on and off with airline baggage at Leytonstone where the branches divide, even though Liverpool Street station was stuffy. A good decision as the train that was 4 minutes behind suddenly was only 1 minute. London Transport minutes are very strange elastic minutes. The ones I have analysed last anywhere between 41 seconds and 1 minute 23 seconds.
As it was only just after 9 on a Saturday the train was very empty and I managed to get some more sleep in (another reason for not taking the other branch, since that leads one into the depths of Epping). I got home. Hardly any post. Hooray for paperless bills! And thence to bed where I spent the next four hours or so. I have done a fair bit of unpacking, and sorting. There’s still some more to go, but I only need to repack in a smaller suitcase for a weekend away which is coming up soon! I had better get that suitcase sorted while I un-sort the current one! We also have another bank holiday coming up, or so it seems, very soon. Any suggestions what I should do? After all, It will be a whole three weeks after that before I go to school, or as we say in Italian, “La scuola”.
It’s bad enough the 45 minutes (at worst) from London City Airport, and the interchange at Stratford. So despite the usual Heathrow irritations, and another reason I prefer to avoid it is the distance from my side of London over to there, then I look back and think, what fantastic cabin crews I had on United in both directions. That made me think, yes, I was lucky. I had the trollies eating out of my hand, they were absolute darlings the lot of them. Give them a smile and a please and a thank you and you get a lot in return. So maybe travelling from Heathrow is not all that bad, since the journeys were both so good, and a good cabin crew makes a world of difference. Getting a quick peck on the cheek from one of them as I got off this morning made my day!
