-->I’m going to visit my brother in Barcelona.
I haven’t seen him since Christmas.
It’s the last time I’m going to see him before heading off to Colombia for a few months to meet my future in-laws. What a blog that’ll be!
I’m also off to write a novel.
But before all that, it’s really important I see my brother.
I can’t go away unless I see him.
I pack my suitcase, leave work early and get the train at London Bridge station.
My phone rings before the train doors shut.
“It’s cancelled,” Mum says.
The Volcano has struck again.
I’m in tears. The three day window of opportunity I had to see my brother is closing.
I transfer my flight to the following morning and pray the ashy farts will stop (the volcano’s not mine).
Mum drives me to the airport at 4am.
I hate airport procedure and even more at that time in the morning.
No, I won’t be putting my mascara in a little clear plastic bag.
I never do and no one ever says anything when it goes through the X-ray.
I overhear the security staff complaining to each other about a passenger’s response to their questions:
“Do you have paste? ... No, only toothpaste. Do you have gel? .... No, only hair gel.”
I sympathise because I’m an airport know-it-all.
Why is everyone so frantic anyway?
It’s not even 5am and passengers are having cooked breakfasts washed down with pints of beer, as if it was their last supper.
It will be if their cholesterol has anything to do with it.
Usually I shun the queue to the plane until the last minute but this time I join it.
Behind me I listen to a couple getting anxious because they can’t find their seat numbers on their easyjet boarding pass.
Really? I think.
Do people still not know easyjet don’t have seat numbers?
Their panic is contagious and finally I turn around and tell them to stop looking for because there aren’t any.
“Oh,” the woman smiles with relief. “We’ve never flown on easyjet before, have we?”
“Not had that luxury,” her partner adds.
Perhaps they’ve only been on Ryanair. I think you have to bring your own seats with that lot.
Soon they’ll dole out aeroplane kits where you have to make your own plane. You’ll have to pay extra if you use sellotape.
I have a coffee and get chatting to the lady in the seat next to me.
Our friendly chat culminates in an offer of a mint. This is the pinnacle of plane friendship.
I start to feel excited.
It’s miraculous, in a few hours I’ll see my brother.
No volcano can stop me now.
Picture by www.olibenet.com