Thought you all might be amused at my thank you letter to my friends in the UK
Just to let you know I am safely returned to the Land of the Free. An amply
proven point at the customs. Just transiting through Canada gets the nth
degree about a lousy bottle of scotch, get to the customs at the land border
with the USA. They asked no questions of me except how long I had been
gone, not a thing about had I bought anything etc etc. All they asked of
Harold was how he had managed with me gone for 7 weeks and who had looked
after the dogs as it was a lot of work for one for so long. I got “Welcome
home ma’am!” Literally!
Of course getting out of the UK was a sick joke, Nazi inspection of hand
luggage for exploding Boots moisturiser, the waving of chemical wands etc
etc, plastic bags etc. I did point out that I did not think Boots currently
sold jehadi products but that might change in the near future. (Received
fatuous giggle from white female security guard!) Also asked whether they
were turning Heathrow into a mosque as mass removal of shoes was in progress
in the queue! Got a genuine laugh from white male guard! My my, how
The journey from Llandeilo was long, tedious and more akin to an iron man
challenge than I care to admit at my advanced age. Anne nobly did the
honours from a 4am arising to get me to the coach station for 5.45. God,
does the world exist at 4am? Not in my pantheon it don’t! Then the horrors
of the new terminal 2. The coach can no longer drop you at the door, its
off to outer darkness at the coach station. Porters? What porters? An
extinct species in the UK these days I assure you. Seeing I couldn’t even
lift my suitcase onto a trolley I was helped by various gentlemen, (Who said
chivalry is dead, rubbish!) A grueling ordeal pushing it up hill, down
dale, into lifts, out of lifts until akin to running up and down the Hindu
Kush I stagger into check in with Air Canada only to be confronted by banks
of machines. I don’t do machines. I announced to a minion (grandly) that I
was an exhausted old fart and I only did humans, find me one! They did, so
too did a lot of other people when they saw I was not prepared to stuff crap
into machine orifices! A lovely Polish girl built like a brick shit house
lifted my suitcase as if it were a feather and politely overlooked the
weight, put a heavy label on it and sent it on its way free of excess
charges. We chatted extensively and then off to get some breakfast. The
shopping mall, correction, departure lounge is obsessed with handbag shops,
I mean how many can you buy at once? 6 shops selling overpriced handbags
all of which looked very similar at a quick 800.00 per touch and up! One
wonders if they ever actually sell any, all the shops were empty!
I bought Harold a bottle of Islay malt, not available in the USA, so I had
my little wheelie hand luggage, very heavy, my duty free, my handbag and a
coat. Then they had this peculiar request to walk to Cardifff to catch the
Air Canada must be in someone’s bad books, the gate was 15 minutes from the
lounge, literally. Vast escalators into the bowels of the earth, very
difficult to negotiate with all the bits one was carrying. Then huge
travalators one after the other. What an endurance test, absolutely
ludicrous. To be fair the plane home was fine, not at all full, no middle
seats filled with obese creatures, that is if one could survive the food.
Truly poisonous, Air Canada is bloody obsessed with pasta, which, of course,
makes you fart! It has to be a plot to make the damned thing go faster!
So next time try BA, at least they have their own terminal. What truly
staggers me is that people are prepared to do this for pleasure? It will
take me two years to get over the horror of it all! The only thing that
gets me on the damnable contraptions at all is you lot!
It was marvelous to see you all again and thank you for your hospitality and
long distance enduring friendship.
ps Some of you charioteers, especially Christopher must be total masochists!