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.
Following on from Part 1 (if you can bear to…), we are on the airport shuttle from the car park to Terminal 2 in Heathrow with the tickets, passports and Richy’s wallet on the roof of the car in the long stay car park. I don’t think I need to detail the kind of exchange (or non-exchange) we were having for the remainder of the 20 minute journey. Continue reading
In line with the responsibility angle of a lot of these blog posts, I’ve invented a new pseudo condition – dyscalculexia. This, for the less medically inclined is a (made up) mixture of difficulties reading both words and numbers. It isn’t a medically recognised disorder, but it can only be a matter of time. It is possibly also a way of avoiding hate mail. Continue reading
That Danish trip again (see also)..this is a long, long one. These flight stories are going to sound made up, I’m sure but it’s all true (well apart from officials’ swearing).
Travelled from seaside town to Copenhagen airport with the lovely Cornish Debbie I’d met at the conference. We laughed our socks off remembering pig toilets in India in the 1980’s. She left me at the BA check in as she wasn’t flying back for several hours. Continue reading
mydaftlife 