On the boat again ... well how I got there, anyway
It't a short flight to Halifax, Nova Scotia. The plane was full to the brim and I was squashed between a Canadian hapy on rum and coke one side, who eventually dropped off after offering the handsome flight attendant a job on the oil rigs, and a quiet Brit on the other, who dropped off. Mind you, I was so tired I was asleep before we took off - when I woke up, I thought we were still taxi-ing for take off. That was a first.
Behind me was a small loudly squealing piglet, whose legs comfortably reached the back of my seat for six hours.
Notes hereafter - sorry, only 20 mins on this computer...
Landing in Canada after two years, flying in over Ice Age scoured land - memories and comparisons. A large tank of live lobsters in the terminal - a terminal destination for them, surely. Tim Horton's ubiquitous coffee shop. The airport is people-sized and comprehensible, unlike Heathrow. I had a mad few minutes with the auto check-in booth, that I couldn't make work, then declaimed at the girl at the check-in desk. She kindly inspected my paper work and pointed out I'd checked in for this connecting flight in England and here (waving it briskly) was the piece of paper to prove it. Ah, oh - THAT piece of paper, eh ... ? The one I'd tried to use to auto check in for my flight from the UK - and failed. I hate paper.
The next flight on a wee DH1 (de Havilland?) was rather delayed - I think Air Canada had forgotten about us .. They rummaged around and eventually found a pilot, co-pilot and a very dapper cabin attendant. "X, old chap, I know it's your day off, mate, but do us a favour, eh? Double - no - TRIPLE pay sound good enough?"
So out we all trooped and squeezed into this little plane with propellors and no headroom for tall people (that counts me out, then).
gotta go folks. see youse later