The continuing diaries of an Englishman abroad visiting such exotic places as Spain, USA, Malta and heaven knows where. Tagging along are his wife Pauline and daughter Emma.

Everything you are about to read is based on true events and real people. It may have been embellished beyond recognition for a cheap laugh but everything happened to a greater or lesser degree. Apart from the bits I made up. OK, and apart from the jokes. And apart from the fantasy sequences. But all the characters are real, believe me.


Exciting isn't it?


Wednesday, 18 January 2012

Spain 2002 - Day 1


Left home at 13.00 to catch the 17.40 flight from Gatwick for Gerona and then on to Lloret de Mar. This year Emma’s bringing her best friend Camille. Arrived at the airport at 14.30 and immediately started queuing at the check-in desk. The queues were ridiculously long as usual and positioned about halfway along the queue was a nice lady showing everyone a board she was holding which contained rows of forks, pen knives, dinner knives, scissors, corkscrews and nail files all hanging from hooks. As we reached her she said, “If you have any of these items or any other sharp objects in your hand luggage you are liable for arrest and will be refused access to your flight. Do you have anything sir?” “No,” I said, “Certainly not,” and we moved along.

At this point Pauline said, “Did you remember to pack the corkscrew?”

Yes, don’t worry,” I said, “It’s in my hand lugg-. Jesus, it’s in my hand luggage, it’s in my hand luggage. Pauline, the corkscrew, it’s in my hand luggage, it’s in my hand luggage.” I tried to slip it into Camille’s bag when she wasn’t looking but couldn’t catch her off-guard.

It’s all right,” said Pauline, “just undo the zipped compartment on my case and slip it in there.”

But it’s in my hand luggage, it’s in my hand luggage, bloody hell, it’s in my hand luggage, right OK, I’ll do that,” I said. I casually fumbled with the case lock and dropped the corkscrew in. Phew! Another crisis over.

Past the nice lady with the knives and special sharp objects and further on towards the check-in desk there was a small weighing machine. This was available to anyone who wanted to weigh their hand luggage to ensure that it weighed less than 5 kilos so as to save time at the desk. This was new to me, I hadn’t had to weigh my hand luggage before but as it was optional Pauline said, “Don’t bother, I know mine is heavy but I can explain why if she queries it, they very rarely weigh hand luggage when you check in anyway.” I decided, out of interest, to weigh mine. I didn’t have much in it really, camcorder, newspapers, battery chargers, books and magazines. I glanced back at the nice lady with the knives and sharp objects, smiled and thought that if I was in airline security, she’d be the first one I’d arrest, she looked a bit shifty to me.
As I was putting my bag on the scales I suddenly thought, “5 kilos? It doesn’t sound much to me,” as I watched the needle shoot up to 8 kilos. Bloody hell, if my bag was over the limit at 8 kilos, God knows what Pauline’s bag must weigh, you could hardly lift hers.

My bag’s over the limit,” I whispered to Pauline while glancing back at the nice knife lady and giving her a friendly wave.

Don’t worry about it,” said Pauline in a not very reassuring way.

Finally we got to the check-in desk and everything went fine until the woman said, “Have you any hand luggage?”

Yes,” we said.

Can I see it?” she said

We held the bags aloft and swung them around in a nonchalant manner in an effort to show her how light they were. I tried to disguise the weight of mine by holding it up with my little finger and gritting my teeth but I think I gave the game away by whimpering a bit.

The woman took one look and said, “We’ll have to weigh those.” Bloody hell, first the knife lady, now the bag lady, where will it all end? Pauline gave her bag to the woman and promptly said, “I’m sorry, I know my bag’s over the limit but it contains food and drink for the kids most of which we’ll use up before we board.”

OK, that’s fine,” said the bag lady without a second glance,“ can I have yours now sir?”

I was going to say “I’m sorry, I know my bag’s over the limit but I’ve already taken out a dangerous sharp object and hidden it in my suitcase to lighten the load,” but thought better of it. The bag lady weighed it and said, “You’ll have to take something out sir.” Blimey, Pauline’s bag weighed three times as much as mine and she got away with it. “Right,” I said, “I’ll take this camcorder out.” which I did and slung it across my shoulder. Now, why did all that matter? If I was walking onto the plane with the same weight but not all in the same bag, did it make any difference? Was it just to make sure that any bags in the overhead lockers that fell out just gave someone mild concussion instead of knocking them out cold? I suppose it was but as soon as we’d left the desk I put the camcorder back in the bag and we made our way to the departure lounge.

As we approached the security scan we passed more signs about sharp objects and criminal proceedings. Oh no, I’ve got those battery chargers in my bag with 13 amp plugs on, does a plug count as a sharp object? You could cause quite bit of damage if you attacked somebody with a 3 pin plug couldn’t you? Suppose they do count as a dangerous object. I’m finished if they do. I’ll be arrested, pulled off the flight, interrogated and quite possibly, beaten and tortured. Worst of all, Emma won’t be able to charge up her Discman for the whole of the holiday. Thank God, the bag got through. Dear oh dear, first the knife lady then the bag lady now the security lady. Is there no end to this? I’m a nervous wreck already.

The flight itself went fine. No delays and took about 90 minutes. Pauline and the two girls were in a row of 3 while I was across the aisle next to two 20-something females who never stopped talking rubbish the whole journey. I did have one nasty moment though when the onboard announcement at the beginning of the flight said, “Ladies and gentlemen, there are 3 toilets on the aircraft. One at the front of the plane and two immediately behind row 13.”

We were in row 14.

I looked across at Pauline. I looked to my left, looked to my right, looked up, looked down and thought if anyone tries to wee on me they’re in big trouble. Perhaps our seats are convertible commodes for the use of all the passengers. If they are I’m going to be up and down like a yo-yo the whole flight aren’t I? I looked under my seat expecting to see great big plastic containers but no, nothing. Then Pauline patted my arm. “It’s all right,” she said, “they said row 30.”

The in-flight snack was a paper bag with a cheese roll inside. The girl next to me suddenly paused in mid conversation with her friend – “and then I said to him, I said, you’re not putting that there and do you – is it vegetarian? – and anyway what happened was………….” The flight attendant had said, “Yes, it’s a cheese roll.” But the girl wasn’t listening anymore by then. I started to fumble with the cellophane on the roll and by the time I’d finally opened it I noticed fat mouth and her friend had eaten theirs already and I hadn’t noticed any gaps in their conversation. How did they do that? They must be ventriloquists is all I could come up with.

When we’d landed and were walking into the airport building I saw big mouth and her friend in front of us still talking nineteen to the dozen. They were not thin. They were pear-shaped to a remarkable degree, no, they were apple-shaped if you can imagine the stalk of an apple being their upper body and the apple being their lower half. I hadn’t noticed this before when I was on the plane as they were both sitting down. Those diet cokes you had during the flight are certainly helping you to keep on top of your weight problem girls.

Transfer to hotel took 20 minutes. Checked in, unpacked and out at 11.30 pm for a quick drink before bed.

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