Busy going nowhere

We should be home by now. I should be blipping in my study, heading to bed… But no. The photo is of the view that I spent too long with, sitting in the lounge of our hotel watching as the rain arrived, the palms waved a bit (not wildly enough, we felt, to justify Jet2’s decision to move our departure by almost 12 hours).

We were able keep our room till 2pm, after which we went for a relaxed lunch in the hotel bar. Then to sit, read, take a quick turn around the garden before more rain came. It grew dark; the rain crashed on the huge windows. The staff tutted their sympathy . The taxi came dead on time at 8.10pm.

Our friends were already at the airport, and kindly let us squeeze onto their seats - for the place looked like a war-zone. People sat on the floor, their legs stuck out in front of them. Flights were called - or cancelled. A woman stood swearing helplessly. We began tracking our plane as it flew from Glasgow.

Can’t actually bear to relive any more. We boarded just before midnight, which effectively was the end of the day. I’m still alive and blipping / but only just.