Touchdown

Catching up on yesterday after what I might call the last act of this holiday with the only photo I took all day - and that in response to a concerned query from a son…

We boarded just before midnight, the queue a suddenly familiar environment of Scottish accents and banter - mostly relief, tinged with exasperation. We were hardly seated before takeoff routines began, and we were airborne before a crew member said that though she had a meal ordered for us she had no record of our Indulgent Escape status… Reader, I remained calm; Himself found some small document that seemed to be proof; we ordered drinks to go with the rather pathetic toastie that was all the plane had aboard (ie not what I originally ordered),; I fell into the first of several uncomfortable sleeps that overcame me throughout the flight.

We landed through a blizzard of sleet and emerged into the chill of Glasgow Airport at about 3.30am. We marched through interminable corridors, through Border Control, and stood in Baggage Reclaim near the entrance, waiting for our friends to appear - they’d been seated further back than us. We waited. The trickle of people slowed, stopped. Ground staff came through , chatting. I stopped a couple, asked if there were any more passengers. No, they thought not. I began to feel like a character in an Agatha Christie…

Our luggage arrived; we retrieved it, all with an eye on the doors. People were dispersing into the night. We turned to leave - and then the door burst open and a little group of people - one in a wheelchair - came through. Friend had taken ill on the plane.

I’ve heard this morning that the doctor who assessed her on board reckoned it was a Madeira malady that’s going around. I’ll let you know…

To finish this long day… We found a new-looking Greggs in arrivals - that’s the photo!  And had peppermint tea and apple Danish pastries. We stayed there till the taxi rang from the road through Gourock. Half an hour later we found it in the car park outside, and an hour after that we were home.

Fires on. Tea. Toast. Hot shower. Bed. Slept like the dead till about 1pm. Put on a washing, made some pasta (with grateful thanks for that bottle of rather wonderful sauce from Ewan at Christmas!), ate, had coffee, sat down for an hour or so - and went to choir. After all, we’d expected to be home mid-evening on Monday!) I sang.

We had more tea and a delicious chunk of Christmas cake and went to bed. It was midnight.

The End.