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
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
mydaftlife 