It was a bit of a debacle. The flight started to board and as my row was called I headed off down the jetway only to be told that anyone not on the plane should return to the waiting area. So we all turned around and filed back.
Not long after, we were allowed to try again and this time I made it on to the plane. Sitting down I realised one of the perils of the solo traveller; a large, rather smelly (and I’m being objective) man next to me who didn’t speak much English. Excellent.
We sat on the plane for an hour before the captain announced that due to a broken windscreen wiper, we would need to change planes. Excellent.
We all filed off, were issued with new boarding passes and trooped off to get a £5 refreshment voucher. I decided to eat dinner as there was no indication of when the flight would board.
As it turned out, by the time I’d eaten and spent £20 on a UK plug because I was worried my phone was going to die, we were called to board.
Back to the gate, on to the plane and back next to the smelly man. The problem with being a relatively small person is that I don’t take up much space. My neighbour seemed to think he could use my leg room and arm rest and so the battle began. I did eventually win but it took a while. Grrrr!
Five hours later than scheduled we landed and passing through immigration I was given the usual warm welcome. I was questioned about why I’d been out of the country for six months, where I’m a resident, how long I’d been a citizen and then given a cursory “welcome back”.
I trotted out quickly to where one of my best friends was waiting for me, hopped in the car and the reunion began.
Of course, with six months news to catch up on, we stayed up far too late laughing and chatting before finally heading to bed in the early hours.
And then, being me, I was up with the lark (or the sparrows) raring to go and ready to start Pack ‘n Purge day one…