Heathrow Terminal 5 ranks among my favourite airport departure places. It’s big and airy and light. And it has to have some of the happiest, friendliest staff I’ve ever come across in an industry that suffers a lot of criticism for intractable misery. Though, to be fair, most of that criticism comes from so-called TV Reality Shows. I have found the real reality a lot different.
Of course, it takes a lot to beat Changi Airport in Singapore, which is like a small city. There is hardly anything you can’t buy while you wait for your connecting flight. While my number one favourite airport has to be Haneda in Tokyo.
All of that aside, I was at Terminal 5 today because Mirinda had to suddenly dash off to Oz to be with Bob and Fi.
It all happened very fast. The last couple of days have been a blur of organising it all (and cancelling various Northumbrian things) while still managing to get Mirinda into London for her biometrical citizenship stuff.
After all the planning, there comes a point when you can’t do anything else and have to hope you managed to get it all right. Subsequently, Carol picked us up in her big taxi at 5pm and we were off.
Because of the current aviation industry issues with planes being delayed and people forming mile long queues, we were advised to turn up three hours before flight time. This meant, Mirinda was ready to go three hours before the plane was due to leave.
She entered Fast Check and gradually disappeared from view as I waved, blew kisses and used hand signals to show how much I already missed her. It was then time to make the long, lonely trip home.
A coach, two trains and a bus ride later, I walked back into the house at 10pm.
The dogs were very pleased, if a bit confused.