This is the first time that I’ve had chance to put finger to keyboard and has become my normal trick – I’ve got loads of pictures from my holiday – even if my damned camera decided to wipe out all of the images off one memory card!
But, despite that setback, I’ve got loads of pictures – some of which I will publish – others that will remain in the collection for personal reasons.
As with past trips, I think the best way is for me do treat each day as a separate post, so that it doesn’t just become a blur, and get confusing. This first post will deal with the trials and tribulations of travel on the outbound leg…
The flight out would have been fine – apart from the fact that I felt like I’d been crammed into a veal pen. I should have guessed that things were not going to go very smoothly, when the snotty cow on the check-in desk decided to give Mum and myself a hard time over the hand baggage weight.
She said that you were only allowed 5kg, and that Mum’s flight bag was overweight and would have to have some bits put into the case as my own case was on the weight limit as well. (I couldn’t find any information on the weight allowances on the tickets, but I was too pissed off to argue with the cow.)
I resorted to taking the one guide book out and putting it into my pocket (I got glared at) and then we were allowed to check in. I swear the miserable female decided to get her own back on the pair of us – she gave us our boarding passes – no problem. The problem arose when we realised where we were seated – Right at the back of the aircraft – the last row of seats, meaning that we couldn’t recline the seats if we wanted!
Add into that it was a bloody long walk to the gate (a rugby scrum is more organised than that plane’s boarding system!) and you get the general idea.
The flight itself was uneventful (and bloody boring – thank god for having a decent book to read – Trudi Canavan’s Black Magician trilogy – book 1 – the Magician’s Guild)
Once in the air, I lost count of the number of times that the trolleys went up and down the aisle (and as the galley was at the back – right behind the seats that Mum and I had been assigned (we were the poor mugs right by the aisle!)) we soon got fed up with them barging past us the whole time.
Thankfully, the weather in Madeira made up for it, and the transfer was relatively smooth to our hotel. We were staying in the old part of town – away from the so-called hotel zone in the west of Funchal.
But, despite that setback, I’ve got loads of pictures – some of which I will publish – others that will remain in the collection for personal reasons.
As with past trips, I think the best way is for me do treat each day as a separate post, so that it doesn’t just become a blur, and get confusing. This first post will deal with the trials and tribulations of travel on the outbound leg…
The flight out would have been fine – apart from the fact that I felt like I’d been crammed into a veal pen. I should have guessed that things were not going to go very smoothly, when the snotty cow on the check-in desk decided to give Mum and myself a hard time over the hand baggage weight.
She said that you were only allowed 5kg, and that Mum’s flight bag was overweight and would have to have some bits put into the case as my own case was on the weight limit as well. (I couldn’t find any information on the weight allowances on the tickets, but I was too pissed off to argue with the cow.)
I resorted to taking the one guide book out and putting it into my pocket (I got glared at) and then we were allowed to check in. I swear the miserable female decided to get her own back on the pair of us – she gave us our boarding passes – no problem. The problem arose when we realised where we were seated – Right at the back of the aircraft – the last row of seats, meaning that we couldn’t recline the seats if we wanted!
Add into that it was a bloody long walk to the gate (a rugby scrum is more organised than that plane’s boarding system!) and you get the general idea.
The flight itself was uneventful (and bloody boring – thank god for having a decent book to read – Trudi Canavan’s Black Magician trilogy – book 1 – the Magician’s Guild)
Once in the air, I lost count of the number of times that the trolleys went up and down the aisle (and as the galley was at the back – right behind the seats that Mum and I had been assigned (we were the poor mugs right by the aisle!)) we soon got fed up with them barging past us the whole time.
Thankfully, the weather in Madeira made up for it, and the transfer was relatively smooth to our hotel. We were staying in the old part of town – away from the so-called hotel zone in the west of Funchal.
The hotel itself (the Porto Santa Maria) was very nice (see http://www.portostamaria.com/index/pb/portosantamaria.html) and proved to be a perfect base to start our exploration of the island.
Time to call this quits – we’ve got visitors.
Back later…
Karen
Learning to fly, but I don’t have wings
Time to call this quits – we’ve got visitors.
Back later…
Karen
Learning to fly, but I don’t have wings
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