Nothing quite like half a night’s sleep to start a holiday is there? After approximately three hours sleep the alarm woke us ready to set off on our latest adventure. There was no chance of us over sleeping as we were woken half an hour before our alarm by a couple having a blazing row in the street; so bleary eyed and half asleep we loaded the cases into the car for a 4:00 am rendezvous at Nikki’s.
I explained the reason for this holiday in my previous blog, so at the moment there are just the five of us. Four more will arrive tomorrow. We went to the airport in two cars, dropped mum, dad and Karen off with the cases near the terminal and parked up. This was the first time that I had seem mum and dad in their travel garb and I and spotted that they have gone for beige this holiday with matching beige jackets. The two of them could easily become lost on a 1970’s sofa.
We checked in in a matter of minutes, then headed off to go through security. The airport was surprisingly busy for September. All the kiddies have definitely gone back to school. I know this for a fact as my Facebook feed has been littered with pictures of friends’ children on their first day at school. Then I realised it was Friday, so lots of people were obviously off for weekends away. In the queue for security, we came across the groom dressed as a police woman on his stag party and the pink sashed hen parties. We also came across a group of girls already “shorted” up ready for sunnier climes. I thought one of the girls had a horrific burn around her right eye. It was only when I got closer I realised that she had a sequenced crescent on her face which matched her sequinned shorts. It was at this point I thought perhaps I should have invested in a corduroy crescent to match my shorts, but too late now.
Her friend had adopted the traditional “Liverpool Rollers” look. For those unaware of this look, it consists of wearing massive rollers in your hair at all times. This girl was quite tall and whereas rollers are normally the size of, say, a Mini Roll, her’s were the size of a Swiss Roll and so I feared that she might not be able to make it through the metal detector. I have never understood this phenomenon. OK, I get that by putting your hair in rollers in during the day, they will be ready for going out in the evening, but they are still going out wearing them. Ok, not out out, but still out. Undoubtedly they will look stunning when they go out this evening, but they look ridiculous in the day time. Presumably this doesn’t count/matter. It’s like inviting someone to look at a room you are decorating just after you have stripped the wall paper. “It looks a mess now, but it will be lovely when it is finished”. I mean, would you go to work in rollers? (If any of you ladies have, I want photographic evidence. Please post it to my Facebook feed.)
Four of us sailed through security; mum set off the alarm, was frisked, explained about her artificial knees, was scanned again, took her shoes off, had her feet measured in one of those Clarks’ shoe measuring things, was frisked again and finally released. (I may have made one of those things up. Can you guess which one?) No idea how sequins girl got on. I bet she could have caused a security incident with those pants.
Next, breakfast. It was 5:30 and I was starving. It’s all change at Liverpool John Lennon now and they seem to have completely embraced his Communist thinking. Hold on, I’ve got the wrong Lenin haven’t I? Anyway, now they have a two queuing system in the cafe. You queue once to order and pay for your food, then you queue again to collect it. It reminded me of when mum, dad and I went to Yugoslavia in the mid 80’s when it was still a communist country. I found some nice paisley fabric which mum said she would make into a waistcoat for me. I also had a lovely pocket watch that I wanted to wear with it. Don’t judge me…it was the 80’s, it was the fashion. (Note: it wasn’t THE fashion, it was MY fashion. It was never fashionable,but I didn’t care. I wore that waistcoat for many a happy night out in my first year at University, dancing around the dance floor with my pocket watch flying out of my pocket and knocking out anyone it cared to hit. I’m still banned from some night clubs in Middlesbrough.) To buy this piece of material, which probably cost about 75 pence for a yard of the stuff involved three people. One to cut it; one to wrap it and one to take the money. It took about half an hour for the whole transaction. That is now what it is like buying breakfast at the airport, but it takes longer, is more expensive and you have the pressure of having a plane to catch.
After we had wolfed down our breakfast, we made our way to the gate, boarded, and sat there for half an hour while Brussels air traffic control cleared us for take off.
Tomorrow: “Which finger is my index finger?”