The life and times of a happy go lucky blogger in London
I flew home today….and my arms are really aching…


Sorry for the bad joke but I just couldn’t help repeating it all day long. It’s just a mask for the fact that I’ve been having kittens about being stuck abroad and have had to keep my pecker up for the last few days and make it all seem like fun for my daughter. Actually, scrub that, it’s been an adventure of great magnitude and instead of coming home feeling a bit sad the holiday is over, we’ve both experienced a huge rush of appreciation for all things domestic, friendly and well, just our own doorstep.

Having told the world and his wife that we were delayed and unable to return from our holiday until next Monday, instead of last, things took a drastic turn for the better when the flights to the UK were announced again.

It would be an understatement to say that we’ve been in a state of crazed delirium for the last 24 hours. Having swapped Cote D’azur for a far chiller London W4, it feels brilliant and a bit lunatic.

I don’t know what it is about the human spirit but it has a homing device that propels the heart and mind in tandem towards reaching that destination against all odds, just to be there.

Last night after Miniminx and I had skyped,tweeted, texted and called everyone we possibly could from our French outpost, we found out before going to sleep that the skies over the UK were reopening. I did a celebration dance and downed another glass of wine then spent the night sleeping very badly as my daughter did her usual holiday prank; shrieking with laughter in her sleep throughout the night. It was all good, we could travel and get back home, lack of sleep permitting.

Not to be outdone by the general somnambulent squawking and whimpering, it was my turn to wake up with a fire in my belly at 5.50am and skittle around the room turning lights on and off, before settling at my laptop screen for some airline ticket motivated search action – I was determined to get us home.

As I flicked between tabs and screens and the abundance or search items, the flights were all coming up fully booked, and every few minutes there would be a change, prices would wobble, new airlines would be appearing, it all seemed a bit crazy.

‘Psssssssst, darling, do you want to go home this morning?’
‘Yeszzzzzzzz, but ….Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz I just need sleeeeeeeeeeep. Let’s go later.’

I was tempted to go back to sleep myself but I couldn’t. I was mad awake. Just the thought of being away from home with no good reason for a day longer was driving me a bit loopy. I let her sleep, and kept refreshing the flight screen. Two flights – oh no, gone already. Another one, at £1500. Another £386 with one stopover. Then after another 20 minutes, bingo. The 9.30am flight out of Nice, after the fourteenth try, had availability.

‘Wake up – we’re leaving in … oh quick, in 15 minutes, we have a flight to catch. Brush teeth, get dressed, close suitcase, do a room sweep*’

It was 20 minutes actually, but in that time I had to call reception to prepare the bill, shower, pack (yes for two) and dress and panic, oh and buy the tickets. The merry dance began and within 15 minutes we were out of the room and finalising the hotel bill and leaving, not before drinking a massively strong coffee. Our taxi arrived and I prattled on in French to the driver. It turned out his wife was stuck in Frankfurt, unable to return. Everyone had a story about some loved on somewhere, our waitress at breakfast had a boyfriend stuck in Thailand.

Determination and sheer bloody mindedness are one thing, but navigating the nuances of local traffic are another thing altogether. Needless to say as we lurched through the early morning traffic, 7.45am is never a good time anywhere, there was still a chance we would miss the check in period so it was all a bit touch and go. We arrived at 8.20 and had to go to the ATM to get the cab fare then to the check in desk, we had 8 minutes to spare. We got through the whole process, very smoothly in fact and boarded.

The flight was amazing, we arrived 30 minutes early and got back across town in good time. Arriving home was perfect – the sun was shining and London is full of Spring blooms. We are very very happy to be back.

So home and back to the grindstone it maybe but the simple pleasure of cooking an evening meal and having neighbours pop over to say hello is just the bees knees.

I’d always believed the old adage that travel broadens the mind, but it also emboldens the home loving heart much more than I imagined or remembered.
I wonder how long it will last?

*a room sweep is what I do after packing, moving around the hotel suite with military precision to check cupboards, wardrobes, shelves and drawers and underbeds for anything and everything I might have left lying about

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1 Comment to “I flew home today….and my arms are really aching…”

  1. Funnily enough, I kept humming ‘Homeward Bound’ this evening too, on our flight back from Tunisia. Our one-week hol extended into two, and we really shouldn’t have felt at all homesick, except… Meetings missed, ditto doctor appointments and evenings out. East, west, home’s best and all that. Glad you got home safely too.
    .-= angelsandurchinsblog´s last blog ..Holiday the French way =-.

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