Return Flight
It didn’t help that I was squeezed between Debbie and a large man (not fat, just… lumbering.).
It didn’t help that the people in front were determined to take full advantage of their reclining seats.
It didn’t help that our entertainment systems, along with those of a 3×7 block of seats around us, didn’t work for the first three hours of the flight — meaning no radio, no video, and no light to read by because the light switch was part of that broken system. They rebooted the computer responsible after everyone else had enjoyed their first film.
For these reasons, and others, the flight home was not an unalloyed joy. I did get some sleep in (I’m told my snoring rivalled that of the large man to my left). I also watched Kung Fu Hustle, which was hilarious and jaw-dropping, even in airline format.
We approached London from the NorthWest, then turned West sharply over central London for the final landing at Heathrow. This meant that from our seats on the right of the plane, we had great views of the Thames, the London Eye, Buckingham Palace, the new Wembley Stadium, Kew Gardens, etc. I’m sure we misidentified many London landmarks (although I’m fairly sure about those listed). I don’t know which flights make this approach or whether it’s even consistent, but it’s a great first glimpse of London.
Nice neighbour Steve was there to meet us when we came out of customs. We babbled about American TV adverts and rodeos and big waterfalls and so forth, while he drove us home. Despite our aeroplane sweatiness, we stopped in Leamington McDonald’s for a proper English burger meal (for the comfort of other customers, we sat outside).
Laura had vacated our house when we got home, but had left it spotlessly clean and unrecognisably tidy. Well done! We squeezed in some untidying before collapsing into bed for a much-needed nap — albeit quotad in the interest of beating jetlag.
In our battle against jetlag, we went for a curry with Steve, Tom and Abbi in the evening, and stayed in the pub until poxy Sunday early closing time to fend off sleep. It’s not really worked for me: at 5:30 I decided I couldn’t sleep, got up, and set about writing this closing diary entry.
What a smashing holiday though.