So the world’s worst airline was late tonight. No stupid corny car horn hoot as the plane landed past midnight at Stansted for Ryanair tonight. Problem is, arriving this late takes away travel options. I’m now waiting for the 0135 bus to Heathrow, from where I’ll get another bus to home.
The irony is had the flight left on time, I would only just have made it. Francesco from Lallemand who was hosting me left four hours for us to get from Pollenza to Bergamo, and we ended up needing them all, after getting snarled in traffic on the ring road round Milano.
It’s a horrible feeling being stuck in traffic when you have a plane to catch, and where the consequences of missing that plane are really complicated (and to a degree unknown). Still, it looks like I will be in my own bed tonight, at least for a couple of hours.
Older son returns home from boarding school tomorrow for the summer holidays. It will be good to see him – I just hope he and younger son can live together in relative peace for the next eight weeks.
No wine the last two nights. I’ll be opening some nice bottles tomorrow night. There are plenty in the tasting queue. Talking of queues, that’s one of the things I hate about Ryanair – the way everyone has to queue for ages, anxiously. And then it’s really messy as everyone tries to fit all their huge pieces of hand luggage into the overhead lockers. And I really hate the hard plastic seat backs, and the constant attempt to sell you stuff.