“Can I buy some kroner please?”
“Danish kroner, Miss?”
“Yes please. I’m off to Copenhagen for a couple of days.”
“It’s going to be very cold then.”
“Blimey! In Copenhagen? Are you sure?”
“Well you’re the one wearing the thick woolley hat, Miss.”
My recent sleazyjet experience cropped up during a fireworks do last night and I mentioned how on both outward and return flights, rows of seats were ‘shut’ to passengers. There was no seat allocation but cabin crew directed us to particular rows. They said we needed to spread around the plane to maintain balance because there were only 60 passengers. They’d put down the table things so we couldn’t sit in certain seats.
OK. Cutting a long story short here as my tales of travel woe are boring me now, I lost my boarding pass at Gatwick on Sunday afternoon. A boarding pass the size of a house and bright orange. I unpacked my bag, retraced my steps but nothing. It was gone. Continue reading
Long, long week of grindingly vile news, including (in no particular order) Gaddafi coverage, Fox corruption, Dale Farm eviction and Ricky Gervais being a knob. But then I noticed this when I was sorting out my expenses;
How COOL is that? The ticket person hole punched a witch on a broomstick on my train ticket. I love it! I want to know if it’s a rogue operator, who sprinkles cheer among commuters across the year with custom punchers for different occasions, or whether Southeastern Rail have provided them. Either way, thank you for making me chuckle and adding a bit of humour to the every day. Lovely timing.
Last Monday a few of us set off for a workshop on emotions in Prato, Italy. I was viewed with suspicion by a colleague, aware of past exploits (for a taster, click here), as she had her hand luggage thoroughly searched at Gatwick. This look intensified after she rinsed the gold ring, that she had worn for over 30 years, down the sink in the toilets near the boarding gate.
Sunday morning in Ottawa. The workshop had finished the evening before. I’d recovered from flight outrage and pigeon dawn. My replacement room had been palatial with stunning views of demonstrations around City Hall.
Now I could check out and wander round Ottawa for the day before getting the bus to the airport for the evening flight home.
Perfect.
Just needed to get some cash as I was down to a few coins and then a day of pure pleasure, peace and relaxation. Continue reading
Crazy, crazy days. This is an unexpectedly sneaky early view of the next instalment of this long, sorry tale because I’ve LOST MY PASSPORT AGAIN. And, I need the number for a passport form I’ve witnessed tonight. After relentlessly looking for the actual passport, I searched for possible electronic records of the number (on old e-tickets, etc). That turned up this email reminding me vividly of the Moroccan weekend away; Continue reading
Oh boy. Another travel-tastic tale. For once, I am not responsible for this. It was those bastards at Air Canada. I was flying to Ottawa. So, so excited to be on an all expenses paid, invited trip. Anyway, since boarding, I’d had a tasty lunch; a lentil curry and rice jobby. I watched some tv, had a doze and a few hours later got woken up by the air steward putting a box on my tray. It was a funny box, like a happy meal box. No one around me had a box. “Wow”, I thought, “I must have won a prize. This is a truly great day”. (New readers should take a shufty at this earlier post. Seasoned readers will probably be wondering when I’m going to stop thinking this). Continue reading
I’ve had a lot of nagging to do the next bit of this saga, so here it is. Just to summarise the story so far, we are at Heathrow on our way to Marrakech for a weekend away, Richy has retrieved the tickets, wallet and passports he left on the roof of the car in the long stay car park at Terminal 2, and we’re at Terminal 4 where we’ve just found out our plane leaves in 50 minutes from Gatwick. (see Part 1 and Part 2) Continue reading
Richy, Petey and I were on our way back from a trip from Amsterdam. They had both been working and I’d had a chilled time (including my first experience of a flotation tank). Anyway, as usual there was a cock up over flying times and Petey got us to the airport about 5 hours before we had to. We all got so bored hanging around, drinking endless cups of coffee and dozing, that we nearly missed the call for our flight and ended up running to the gate. Once in our seats there was an announcement over the tannoy. Someone had taken a passenger’s dutyfree Gitanes at the hand luggage x-ray. Continue reading
mydaftlife 