And home we go

Sorry Monali, I meant to photograph my breakfast but I ate it.

As usual, on holiday, we were up early, packed and ready to roll by 8:30am. We caught a taxi to Linate Airport and joined a queue to check-in. Everything had gone so smoothly that things just had take a turn in the opposite direction. It took the form of an Italian family of four who had over packed one suitcase.

Imagine how the rest of us felt as we waited and watched as they opened all four of their bags and started redistributing their belongings to make the weight more equitable. It took ages. Not that it was really much of a problem given we had to wait somewhere.

Then, shortly after the Italian family of four had wandered off, the conveyor belt thing which takes your luggage off into the depths of luggage purgatory, stopped. This instantly caused a great logjam of, rather than logs, bags.

There was a frantic moment of Italian phone calling and shouts of dismay. This caused a short chap in yellow overalls to appear, phone glued to his face, worried expression plastered on his face. He walked along the conveyor belt, twiddled with the emergency stop button, chatted and shook his head. It all looked like they’d have to go and find some camels to carry our baggage.

Then, suddenly, with a leap of joy inside his yellow overalls (actually it was more a single step off the conveyor belt without a pause in his conversation) followed by the sound of wheels turning, the bags started moving again. Of course the short guy in the yellow overalls had to help a few of them along a bit but otherwise, all was well again.

After this, the line of passengers moved on without delay.

Moving along to security, a sharp eyed lady spotted my walking stick and businesslike yet lovely, she shuffled me over to the super quick priority lane along with businessmen, wheelchairs and single dads with their squabbling kids. We were very quickly through and passed through customs to find ourselves sitting by our gate, waiting for the announcement to board.

Now, Mirinda is not known for her queuing patience. And for a very good reason. She doesn’t have any. On the other hand, I don’t mind and it means I can keep an eye on what’s happening in order to write about it on my blog. So, it’s no surprise that after standing next to me in the unmoving line of passengers for about five minutes, Mirinda said she was going to try and be the last person on the place and abruptly sat down again.

The reason the line wasn’t moving was because there was too much cabin luggage and people were having it put in the hold. This, of course, takes a long time so everyone else was held up. (I didn’t notice if it was the Italian family of four.) Then, as if she was a parking angel, another flight official motioned anyone with small bags forward. I was through and on the bus then on the plane in about ten minutes.

Meanwhile, Mirinda managed to be the last through the gate, the last onto the bus and, consequently the last onto the plane.

She’s right at the back

The flight was as delightful a flight as you could want. Our captain was a woman (something I’m always grateful for) with a lovely lyrical Scottish accent who had us at City Airport right on time. Even more delightful than that, I had the window seat! This is something that hardly ever happens. As we approached London, the clouds cleared and I had some glorious views.

The Thames

We landed and walked the very long walk along the City Airport Long Corridor before walking onto the DLR platform where we caught a train to Canning Town by going in the wrong direction, realising it after one stop then changing trains back to Canning Town…where we changed to the Jubilee Line and, eventually, a train home to Farnham.

My impressions of Milan? I actually loved it. I am surprised at how much I enjoyed it though given it’s in Italy it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, I guess. In fact, I think my only complaint would be it was too hot (over 30 and humid) though even that was better than normal as someone told us “It’s normally much hotter at this time of year.

And so, back at home, we rejoiced in the fact that no-one had broken in and stolen everything – I thought I’d left the bedroom windows open but Mirinda said she’d opened them as soon as she went upstairs. After putting a load of washing on, I left Mirinda to work and went into Farnham where I told Chantelle how lovely Milan is, making her more than a little jealous.

I experimented with grilled lightly smoked salmon with a black olive crust tonight, following our visit to Martini at Dolce e Gabbana. Mirinda gave it top marks so it may see a return.


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1 Response to And home we go

  1. mum says:

    I only read half of this blog before so have just read it again all the way through and the holiday sounded marvellous a very nice place. love mum xx


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