… or “recorridos felices” which is the closest I can get to the spanish with Systran‘s assistance!
After champagne and curry supper on Friday, and a fitful four hours’ sleep as a consequence, we were up with the birds at 4.30am and en route to LHR in the MGB.
Forty minutes later, we parked in Terminal 2 shortstay car park and made our way down into the low-ceilinged depths to check in…. only to find that H wasn’t flying to Madrid with Iberia, but with BA. Luckily, it was BA T1, not BA T4…..
After stiff upper lipped farewells, H headed through the departure gate, and I made my way back through the rat-run tunnels to the carpark, and out into the lightening day.
I’d made it back to Croydon by 7am, whizzing along the M25 and the A23, passing the deserted sheds of the Purley Way. Pity that, as I do need to do an Ikea trip!
You get a strange sort of train passenger at 7:10am, and (I’d say) a higher than average proportion of them smoking.
Back in CJ, and after a refreshing cup of tea – I’d been up for over 3 hours without sustenance! – I got stuck into giving the Sistene Blue hall its first coat of white matt emulsion paint, pausing only to purchase H’s June-December flight ticket from Bridge the World.
Met Phil at Waterloo at 11am, and spent the rest of the weekend with Ruth and Pete in Basingstoke. Lovely. Even with the loss of an hour for the sake of BST.