An early start, heading for Arlanda Airport. I left home at 06:10, caught the 06:30 and reached the airport at 08:20. The flight took 2 hours 20 minutes. The train from Gatwick to Battle took 2 hours 7 minutes. That’s a lovely amount of time without my right shoe off.
Actually, it wasn’t too bad. I decided to wear my normal runner on my left foot so I could concentrate on allowing for the extra length of the Sneaky Steve. Before checking my bag in, I switched to my old shoe which felt a lot better.
I had a laugh with the guy at the gate who, when looking at my passport photo, looked at me quizzically and held the photo up to my face. I smiled and said it was a very old passport. He smiled back and let me through.
On the plane, I experienced the fear that everyone feels when an infant is carried to the seat in front of them. I don’t know how old she was but her language skills were not beyond goo goo gaga.
At first I thought the man with the baby was Irish but, after listening to him talk to the mother, I reckon they were both Finnish. She didn’t speak a lot of English so he did all the talking. The plane was Norwegian and left from Stockholm. So, Finnish is my guess.
I’m sure she thought she looked marvelous but she looked awful; like a reject from Divas in the Marais. Her eyelashes looked like upside down French awnings and her lips seemed to be made of plastic. I’m not sure why people make themselves look so bad.
Landing at Gatwick, I noticed a group of border force officers escorting a small chap who may have been Spanish. I think he was lost. The officers said he didn’t have a stamp in his passport. He didn’t seem to speak English.
The pen I brought with me disagreed with the plane trip and decided to spit ink all over me. I felt like a 1910 printer going home from work after a long day with the typesetting machine.
I had planned on catching the 12:56 train from Gatwick but the massive queue for tickets decided otherwise. I eventually caught the 13:26 and headed for St Leonards Warrior Square, a delightfully named Sussex station.
It seems that ‘Warrior’ may have started off being ‘Warehouse’ because a lot smuggling went on and that’s where they hid their goods away from the inquisitive eyes of the excise men.
It was very windy on the platform.
Eventually, I arrived at Battle where John met me and drove me to Platt Towers, where Madame E was waiting.
Bev and Jon arrived not long after and the five of us spent the rest of the day talking about Darren, the plans for tomorrow and old Weasel times.
Eventually, we sat down to devour a delicious lasagne prepared by Madame E before we all shuffled off to bed.
It was a big day. Tomorrow promises to be bigger.
I wonder what happened to the Spanish guy. And how he avoided having a stamp on his passport