So according to good old Facebook, three years ago Jack and I were sat at Belfast airport waiting for our flight back home. I started to panic when we only had 20 minutes until our gate closed and were still unable to check in our hold luggage. After 15 minutes I went to customer services to be told book in would be closing in 3 minutes – they just hadn’t updated the boards. Really wasn’t up to the sprint that ensued.
I think it might have been on our flight out to Ireland, that during take-off, Jack had exclaimed “Mum. I don’t believe it. That blokes weeing up the side of your car!” And Yes. I looked. A bit like the time we were stopped at traffic lights in the car and he said “look at that man on the corner playing that piano”.
On route to Belfast they served a second cup of hot chocolate. Don’t mind if I do thank you. Shortly after receipt, my ears started popping and ½ cup down the pilot threw the plane on the runway. So glad I wore a white top. I will never fly Dan Dare again.
Going back to the sprinting and way back in time (to 1999) I boarded the train at London Kings Cross to Edinburgh. I only just made it though, despite arriving at Kings Cross 30 minutes prior to departure. I had ordered my ticket over the phone and followed instructions to collect the ticket from platform 1. This done, I somehow made this mean that the train was also departing from this platform. I squatted on the platform, relaxing with coffee and ciggie in hand, watching them clearing the carriages ready for us all to board. Us? It was 3 minutes to departure and I was the only one on the platform. Bugger. The coffee and fag had to go as I ran with overnight bag, frantically trying to find the right platform and jumped on the end carriage as the train started to move out from the station. I wouldn’t mind but I even took a photo of a stationary train that I didn’t even go on.