26-Sept-24 Nottinghamshire, UK
As you all know by now, dear reader, there’s only one 5 o’clock in my day. So you will feel my pain when the first of about a dozen alarms goes off at this ungodly hour.
No idea why people get up at 5am to start their day. Nothing happens at 5am does it. No. All the interesting stuff happens at night.
Drag myself out of bed. Takes some doing.
Having done a recce of the walking route on Tuesday afternoon between hotel and along the skywalk to terminal I know it’s a 10 minute walk.
But.
Having checked out see the hotel shuttle bus arrive at the front door.
Hmmm.
Might as well do that than up and down escalators, lifts and walk long gangways.
Big mistake.
Huge.
Lots of people with lots of big bags.
Being the gentleman that I am…allow all the woman with big bags to board first. And take a seat. Then let the old blokes get on. I being the last to arrive at the unofficial queue for bus feel obliged.
It’s a tight squeeze, dear reader. And have to stand by driver so we can all fit in.
Not the smoothest of drivers I have to say. So cling on.
Need Terminal E. Just behind hotel. And the nearest to hotel.
But. Terminals A, B, C and D come first.
Each time having to get off bus with my bag to allow all those with big bags to get off.
What a faff. Why on earth do people travel with so much sodding luggage?
Finally. Arrive Terminal E. Would have been quicker to walk, dear reader.
Fortunately have Fast Track security access. What they actually mean is Fast Track to the front of the queue for the queue for security. Rather than a dedicated x-ray machine. Takes a bit of time having to practically strip naked to go through. Everything off.
Check in to the BA lounge. Combined affair for Business and First passengers. Given a ticket to sit in a cordoned off area of the ‘restaurant’ area reserved for First.
Greeted by woman 1 who takes ticket. Sits me down and goes to get the brew I order. Nip to the loo to wash hands.
And return to my seat.
To be greeted by woman 2. Who asks for my ticket to the First area. Can’t as given it woman 1. Woman 1 brings brew. Woman 2 then returns to take breakfast order. Knowing there’ll be a delicious Full English onboard in about an hour or so opt for a croissant and jam. Just a little something to soak up the impending glass of champagne in about twenty minutes once boarded.
Need sugar for brew. Woman 2 trots off to get.
Then realise no spoon in the napkin roll of cutlery.
Woman 2 brings sugar. Then trots off to get spoon.
Dear God.
I meant a small teaspoon. Obviously.
Am given a desert spoon which barely fits in small cup.
Enjoy first brew. Way too early. Still the middle of the night in my book.
Ask for another brew. Woman 2 takes cup and saucer away.
Brings fresh brew.
But no spoon.
Off she trots to get spoon.
Spoon arrives.
Then realise the sugar has run out.
Call her over. Again.
Off she trots to get sugar.
What a faff. To-ing and fro-ing.
Board on time.
Would Sir like a glass of champagne?
It’s not even 0700hrs yet.
But go on then. Twist my arm if you must.
Rather nice way to start the day though, dear reader.
Menu handed out. Ah yes, will have the smoked salmon to start with. Followed by the Full English.
Laugh to myself at the thought of Miss Nottingham’s little sis, Bloss, flying BA First when they had forgotten to load the breakfast trolley. A complaint was emailed there and then on the aircraft!
Oh yes. How I laughed.
Until.
Ask for the smoked salmon.
Air steward, more camp than a Scout Jamboree, informs me that they’re lacking in the breakfast department. Not enough food has been loaded. “We might have some breakfast.” Says he.
“I’ll do my best to have a fish around for salmon. Might be some in Business.” He says.
Have you got Full English then?
“I’ll check!”
What a palaver.
Well, dear reader. Smoked salmon is found. Delicious with yet another glass of champagne.
And then. The Full English.
Well, dear reader. It’s dreadful.
Toast is like trying to eat a slab of Ryvita.
Something purporting to be hash brown is of a dubious grey substance. Stodgy and gloopy.
Bacon is streaky bacon. But more streaky than bacon.
Sausage is luke warm.
Egg is that reconstituted powder stuff.
Yuk.
No aircraft can do breakfast well for some reason.
Not the best meal I’ve ever had British Airways!
Having drunk two large glasses of champagne in an hour or so. Need the loo.
Return to seat to discover yet another large glass of champagne has been poured. Oh ‘eck.
Oh well.
Live life whilst you can.
Watch a film sipping champagne.
Then lunch.
Marinated scallop with black garlic. Delicious!
Seared prawns with grits and smoked ragout. Delicious!
Followed by what was advertised (and requested) as passion fruit mousse. But turned out to be blackcurrant cheesecake.
Washed down with a very nice glass of Diatom Chardonnay.
BA has redeemed itself. This is the life.
It’s only after lunch that I remember to look at the flight map. Expecting to be somewhere mid Atlantic and a couple of hours to go for an afternoon nap.
So.
You will imagine my surprise to discover we’re flying over the Irish Sea. And about to land shortly.
Flipping ‘eck.
That went quickly!
Heathrow here we come.
In years gone by it used to be Heathrow Hell.
Now it’s Heathrow Heaven.
Passport e-gates take seconds.
And soon on Heathrow Express.
Followed by taxi from Paddington to Kings Cross.
There’s a train at 2033hrs. With a fair wind, good traffic flow and a bit of luck…can just about make it. If cabby cracks on.
He does.
And arrive Kings Cross 2027hrs.
Not one for running. It’s a brisk stride. Don’t have a ticket yet so can’t go through the main concourse barriers which require said ticket to open. But know a little trick, dear reader. The barriers up by the First Class lounge on the first floor leading to the access bridge over the platforms are always open. 99% of the time.
And tonight is no exception.
Now 2031hrs.
Two minutes to go. It’s so close to departure time that the train has been removed from departure board. So don’t know platform number.
Sod it.
Striding along the access bridge over the platforms peering down trying to see a train with: a) people on it, and b) a sign saying this is the one you want.
Ah. There it is! Platform 4.
Game on.
I can do this.
Escalator down to platform.
And then.
Half way down.
Train eases out of the station.
Sod it.
Back to First Class Lounge. Buy ticket on app to gain access to lounge.
And wait half an hour for the next one.
So it’s near 2230hrs by the time jump off the other end. To be greeted by taxi driver. Who is from Afghanistan.
In need of some provisions now as will be too late to shop once home. Stop at a local garage near station as it has a Londis shop. Afghan waits whilst I nip in.
Except I can’t.
Doors are locked. On account it’s late.
Cashier will only serve me through his little window. English is not his first language either.
Oh for God’s sake.
Just let me in so I can quickly get exactly what I want.
Nope. Security and all that.
So.
There I am.
Like some dystopian version of Supermarket Sweep.
Shouting through security window to someone who doesn’t fully understand English what I want.
Who then goes off and gets something completely different.
FFS.
Muppet.
But we get there. Milk. Bread. Cheese. Butter. Beer (of which I am very much in need of now). Red wine (of which I am also very much in need of now after this palaver). Chocolate. Snacks.
Something to keep me going through the night.
And then.
Arrive home.
It’s a dark, stormy, wet night.
The heating hasn’t been on whilst I’ve been away.
It’s a cold, dark house. Arctic was warmer!
Welcome home.
It’s good to be back.
Not.
