26 & 27-Apr-25 London, UK, and Vienna, Austria

Well, dear reader. Off we go again on Sector 3 of the Nottingham to New Zealand trip. And what a day to start the sector. My 55^th birthday. Yikes. Closer to 60 than 50 now. Where did the past five years go.

Oh. And am now retired.

It has been a fraught few weeks, dear reader. Best mate of 45 years had a bleed on his brain. And an operation. Now recovering well. Thankfully. Which rams it home that you have to live life. Now! Whilst you can! And a timely reminder that retiring the past year is the best decision. Travel now whilst I’m fit and healthy.

Taxi takes me to catch the train. Driven by an African. Who still thinks he’s in the savannah. Utterly dreadful driving. All over the place. Your life in their hands. But we get there. Alive. Thankfully.

Overnight at Heathrow Hilton (https://www.hilton.com/en/hotels/lhrhegi-hilton-garden-inn-london-heathrow-terminals-2-and-3/) adjoining Terminal 2. From where I fly in the morning. Amazing views for dinner in the top floor panoramic bar. You can see for miles. London’s city skyline shimmering in the heat haze. Can make out the Shard about 20 miles away.

Have spent birthday in some wonderful places. But Heathrow isn’t one of them.

Fast Track the following morning through LHR security. Told it’s not necessary to empty bag. So don’t. But then instructed to empty bag and practically undress to pass through security. The newer security machines haven’t been installed in the Fast Track section yet. Which perhaps isn’t so Fast Track.

Bag set aside for extra security checks. Washbag emptied. And told I have to take toothpaste out. And put in plastic bag. Why? Ask I. It’s the rules. And get this. Security bod takes the toothpaste in a plastic bag from the table we’re standing at. And moves to another table. A. Foot. Away. And then takes toothpaste out of bag. For a bomb swab. Which is then placed in an explosives scanner. Which is obviously clear. Toothpaste then put back in plastic bag. And bag is then brought back to my table. A. Foot. Away.

Oh for God’s sake. Utterly ridiculous rigmarole.

Quite why it had to go in a plastic bag to travel a foot I know not.

In need of a morning brew. Go to Starbucks. And asked for name to put on cup. Turns out my name is Liam. Not my real name.

It’s the same airline as I flew back from Vienna back in February. And. As usual. Have booked an exit seat. Long legs you see.

Am stopped at boarding gate. And directed to boarding desk. As they have to check I’m physically capable of opening the exit door.

Back to the boarding gate to scan boarding pass. Green light. Gate opens. And go.

But some Indian bloke on the desk sees my overweight and oversized hand luggage. And shouts stop! As I’m halfway between the boarding gate and the air bridge. A few steps to go.

Having experienced all the twaddle in Vienna and having to check bag in because I’m sitting in an exit row. Can do without that nonsense today.

So.

Carry on striding.

And soon on the airbridge.

Pretending to be deaf.

To the strains of an Indian bloke shouting, “Stop. Sir. Stop. Sir. Stop. You have to check your bag in!”

No chance mate.

Am on the escalator down to aircraft level. And continue along the air bridge to aircraft. The dulcet Indian tones receding.

But expecting to be clobbered once on board. Assuming he’s rung down to the aircraft to stop me boarding with bag.

Thankfully. Not stopped. And bag goes in overhead locker. Rules are for fools. And the guidance of wise men.

Two lads sitting next to me have just met. They say they’ve never met anyone who has travelled to North Kore.

Ahem. I interject.

You have now!

See my North Korea blogpost elsewhere on this website, dear reader.

Landing on time in Vienna. It’s a bus transfer to passport control. Have positioned myself on the bus so will be first off. And first in the passport queue. So straight through. Without enduring the queue. Am through passport control before the rest of the flight has disembarked the bus. Forward thinking, dear reader. No flies on me.

Return to the Boutique Hotel am Stephansplatz (https://www.hotelamstephansplatz.at/en/startseite.html) where I was based in February. Couldn’t be more central if you tried.

Last time it was sub-zero. Twenty today though. A warm and pleasant sunny Sunday afternoon. And a walk to the Hofburg Palace garden. A new discovery. Plenty of people picnicking and perambulating. Great atmosphere.

My giggly German twin, Miss Braunschweig, rings. Born hours apart but on different days. Her birthday today. Mine yesterday.

She in Florence. I in Vienna.

Hippy birdie two ewes mein Liebling.