Back to the blogging

Well, I’m back. And the reason for the lack of posts? I was on holiday in my favourite location - the beautiful island of Madeira.

Mum and I had decided to return to Madeira within about ten days of us returning from our previous holiday, as the pair of us were so relaxed (ok – Mum had metalwork in her leg that decided to make a break for freedom, but that wasn’t the fault of the holiday!)

As per normal, I’m going to group the posts into the memorable parts of my holiday – fourteen posts would be a little extreme, as there were a couple of days that were wasted (the first day – i.e. the day that we flew out – more on that in a moment) and a couple of days where the pair of us just did very little, apart from chill.

The fun started at 03:30 on the Monday morning. Simply because Mum and I were being picked up by the taxi at 04:30, so it was a case of manhandling both cases down stairs the night before, as I am not at my best first thing in the morning – and certainly not at that time (I’m out of practice because I don’t have to get up and tend to Flame anymore).

The trip to the airport was uneventful, and we arrived at Birmingham Airport at 05:30ish... Now the check-in desk didn’t open until 06:00, so it gave Mum and few minutes to kill (and I was praying that the scales we had been checking the weight of the cases with was reasonably accurate, as the weight limit was 20kg per case…)

The desk opened, and we were second in the queue. Not a problem, until the girl on the check-in desk spotted Mum’s walking stick, which was folded up in her flight bag. Now normally, this wouldn’t be a real concern, as Mum regards it as more of a “comfort blanket” than an actual necessity most of the time.

However, Mum and I had booked seats with extra leg room – i.e. ones right by the aircraft doors (we were by the doors that are just before the wing on the B757 – think it was row 12). This meant that we had to be seen by the flight crew (or cart tarts) as being fully mobile; otherwise they would refuse to allow us to sit in the seats, despite the fact that we had paid extra for the privilege of not being treated like cattle.

Once that little hassle was overcome, it was then time to head for the security checks that allowed us to go airside. As per normal, the queue was massive, and this certainly didn’t improve my mood, as I had someone who seemed determined to keep as close to me as was humanly possible – without climbing into my flight bag!

It was then a case of waiting for the flight to be called. Only there is one problem. Birmingham airport (in their “infinite wisdom”) don’t make announcements for the flights that are ready to board. The only time that a call is put out, is when they need to round up passengers from either the bar or the duty free area, as they haven’t been keeping an eye on the information boards. Thankfully, we found seats directly facing the board, so we were able to keep an eye on things, and make sure that we were ready to make a move when the flight was ready.

So Mum and I headed to the boarding gate, and got onto the aircraft. Now as we were sitting by the emergency exit, we had to put our flight bags in the overhead locker… I wasn’t happy about that, as it meant that I had to hold onto my book and MP3 player / headphones as there was no seat pocket I could put them into. Then, we got the passengers from hell behind us.

Now normally, I’m quite tolerant when I fly – I just plug my headphones in, and ignore the world. Not this time. The prat behind me seemed to have ants in his pants, and every time he moved, he grabbed the back of my seat which seemed to pull it back to a point where it would almost twang back, and clout me on the back of my head.

In previous flights, I’ve had a nut free meal, because of my allergy. Not this time. I got given a vegetarian meal, and about 15 min after I’d eaten, I started to get the dreaded tingle in my mouth, meaning my allergic capability had started to kick in. Now where were my antihistamines? That’s right. In my flight bag, which was in the overhead locker.

But that wasn’t the worst part. The selfish prat who kept twanging the back of my seat had pushed his crap into the locker, putting my flight bag well out of my reach! All I can say is thank God for the gentleman who helped me. He helped me remove the selfish prat’s flight bag (who glared at me – I was just waiting for him to say something, and he would have been told in no uncertain terms what I thought of him) and got both mine and Mum’s flight bags from the locker.

The cart tarts were doing the pre-landing checks (seat backs upright, tray tables stowed, and hand luggage in the right places) when they spotted our flight bags. The one started to get a bit snotty – we’d stowed them underneath the seats directly in front of us – and I doubt anything short of a small nuclear explosion could have shifted mine.

Or she did until I said that I’d had and allergic reaction, and needed to get my medication. Nothing like the risk of a medical emergency to shut them up… But, it was back in the overhead lockers with them, and this time, it was our flight bags that were at the front, and the prat had to wait for his. Poetic justice in a way I guess...

Then it was into the terminal, through passport control and down to the luggage reclaim area. Now Funchal airport has a wonderful system, where the cases slide down on to the luggage carousel. Good idea in theory… In practise, not so good, as there is this chest that advertises the Madeira Story Centre, and I’ve seen cases get stuck behind there on a regular basis! Thankfully, the two cases weren’t one that were affected, meaning that all I had to do was grab them and get them off the carousel.

Once grabbed, it was a case of seeing what the transfer arrangements were (mini bus as normal) and getting across to where it was parked. As Mum managed to get the last seat in the normal bit, I had the delight of sitting in the passenger seat.

This didn’t actually bother me, as it meant that I could have a good look around, and see if there were any obvious signs of damage from February’s devastating floods. There was no obvious damage that I could see en-route to the hotel, but I wasn’t sure how the rest of the island was recovering…

Ah well, guess I should call this quits – I’ve go stuff to finish off before I head into the playpen tomorrow.

Back when I get the chance…


Karen

Now some things you hold on to - and some you just let go
Seems like the ones that you can't have
Are the ones that you want most