Saturday, 12 September 2009

travels in reverse – what a palaver!

so. Coming home again. So chuckalicious. NOT!!

aaargh! I can truly say that I DETEST travelling...whatever happened to the days when one looked forward to flying somewhere because the actual FLIGHT was enjoyable? You could walk around. See the cockpit. Meet the pilot. The air hostesses enjoyed their work. I remember those flights with my parents. No more. Flying sucks now, and that's that.

So, to the trip home. As per usual, we were delayed out of Porto [apparently there are some air restrictions over France that hold up Swissair? riiight…]. Whatever – we left 55 minutes late. Which adds about an hour and a half to my already long drive home, simply by virtue of the fact that EVERYTHING becomes 55+ minutes later. The plane. The Luggage [how I WISH my luggage actually did bite/eat people!], the transfer etc etc. Pah.

I really wanted to hit someone. I had a massive panic attack, as my 'pain in the side', which is usually pretty dull, had decided to become pretty hilarious. As in 'whoo hoo, here I am and spreading!' My gut felt like someone had kicked and perhaps stabbed me. This was not nice. Nor funny. Nor conducive to patience in the face of delay. I just desperately wanted to get home in case my stomach was going to try to kill me. Rather it did that in Exeter thanks [well, not at all actually, but if it MUST!]. At least I'd be near my hospital! I had horrible visions of recurrence. I cried my eyes out at it's worst on Thursday night. Just needed to be home.

Eventually I arrived at Heathrow. Hoorah. The Land of Miserable Bastards. I don't know what it is about the staff in UK airports, but they all need a joint or a good kick up the arse. They are SO rude and SO miserable – it's almost possible to pity them. But I didn't. I wanted to run over them all with a large tractor. Twice.

I waited for The Luggage. Eventually It arrived. Raced to the Avis bus stop with It – astoundingly efficient! We were at the Avis office within minutes! Got my car [a fancy Peugeot – better for not falling off the side of the road every time there's a breeze…] It took me all of 5 minutes to work out how everything worked [you know, lights, indicators blah] and I was off. But it was already 8.15. I was looking at 11.45 arrival home. Not TOO bad. Ha!! If I'd only known. Oh, and they did offer me GSM? er…a talking car? no thanks…

Oh ho ho ho. Say that in an axe murderer Santa voice!! I had made reasonably good time – considering that the M3 is a great big 50mph zone due to some digging. Digging for what we shall never know. Gold?? Bollards? I swear that in the UK bollards have replaced cats eyes…we can't SEE where we are going. Unless there a a gazillion bollards…

Nonetheless. Delay. Bloody cameras that take a pic of you every 2 miles for an average speed check. So, no normal travel speed of about 80 mph. for a LONG time. THEN – the best! I got to the 'almost at Exeter' turn off, and what should I see? A big fat 'ROAD CLOSED' sign. Lots of idiotic men dressed in shiny reflective pants doing bugger all, apart from blocking me. And smoking.  Oh thank you very much. I followed the one and only 'redirected traffic' sign.  Onto the A30. This road is only used by farmers and wild animals! Buffalo. Elephants. Wild boar.

Over hills and dales. Through forests and tundra. Up and down hills. Not another soul to be seen. I had visions of werewolves, so didn't dare stop to call Aj in case I was attacked, bitten and turned! Miles and miles and miles of what [in the daytime] must be lovely scenery – but at midnight? er – NO!! Anyway, after avoiding many foxes, deer and deranged badgers [what is up with badgers? they don't understand roads or what? fools] I eventually arrived at the 'normal' route – no thanks to the roads department, who assume that one will just 'get there'.

Well, I got there. Eventually. Because I am a bloody genius. But a few signs would have been nice! So instead of arriving home at 10.00, I got in at 1.00. Aj had to meet me at the Avis drop off, as it was after hours, and I had to have a big fight with a diesel pump on the way. Uff.Got to bed at 2.00.

And the gas man is coming in the morning between 8.00 an 1.00. What's the bet he will be early??

1 comment:

  1. I'm obviously reading you blog in the correct order so have no idea if you've done this or not but... Go to see your Doctor about the pain in your side.. just to put your mind, and mine, at rest xx


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