I was up at 06:00 on Sunday 09 February 2020, shut down and closed my house and a friend David McErlean dropped me at Carcassonne airport in the southwest of France around 08:00.
Initially RyanAir couldn’t land at Carcassonne because of poor visibility but after about an hour they did, we boarded and they closed the doors. Then the pilot told us because of the delay we had lost our landing slot at London’s Stansted airport in England and would have to wait for a new one. Forty minutes more and we left with the pilot warning us that because of the storm the ride would be bumpy as we neared England.
I took a nap for an hour, the flight lasts 1 hour 50 minutes, broke out my very large ham and strong cheese sandwich on some thick wedges of whole grain bread and realized the pilot had not exaggerated and what woke me was the plane intermittently gyrating all over the place. And further proof was the pale faced people around me holding up a hand to indicate they needed a sick bag, RyanAir is as you know a low cost carrier and you have to request one. If you graduate to two bags they also provide a larger plastic bag to place them in. I noticed one poor man turning and turning the bag desperately trying to find the opening until a neighbor already equipped with a bag showed him how to tear off the top. I put my sandwich away.
Some time later the pilot announced if it appeared we were flying around in circles, that due the storm and high gusting winds we were in fact flying around in circles as planes were stacked up waiting their turn to land and we were number six in line. At this news a gentleman across the aisle, a two bagger groaned. But eventually and after a last minute roar of one engine to correct a sideways lurch the pilot got us on the runway and we all applauded. Not as significant as sacrificing a lamb but our hearts were sincere.
We left the plane and walked to the terminal in the heavy wind and rain, RyanAir is a low cost carrier, and then traversed many corridors and stairs to reach the immigration counters. This is now completely automated, on seeing a green arrow you enter a closed pen through a gate which closes behind you, hold your passport on the reader in one of the very long line of readers, look into the camera and if you match something somewhere in the computer cloud the gate opens and you enter the UK. At the random customs check I inquired of one of the officers “what happened to all the border officials who used to sit in the many glass enclosures where you slid them your passport through the little slot.” He told me they were all working somewhere else.
I started down the stairs to the train platform where you catch the Stansted Express to London Liverpool Street station only to be greeted by signs saying the train line was closed because of the storm. I inquired for how long and was told until they removed the fallen trees and repaired the power lines.
I went back upstairs to the huge bus park, bought a ticket and waited with hundreds of other passengers until I finally got on the bus with stops including mine at Liverpool Street station. We had an interesting one hour plus ride to London with the driver fighting the gusting, buffeting high winds all the way. Did I mention since arriving at Stansted there was a constant driving rain and swathes of the UK countryside and many towns were now flooded.
After a ten minute walk with my backpack and pulling my suitcase in the rain I reached Liverpool Street station, purchased an Oyster travel card and took the Tube, Metropolitan Line to Wembley Park station where the rain had lessened somewhat. I asked one of the station staff to point me to the Holiday Inn which he did, saying it was a 10 minute walk and recommended I leave immediately before the storm returned. Two minutes into what was a 15 minutes plus walk the rain and wind returned and I arrived at the hotel drenched, checked in took a hot shower, made a cup of tea and finally ate my delicious sandwich.
And my best friend Mel ? who I travelled to London and this hotel to meet – his flight from Dublin was cancelled because of the storm, but with luck he will arrive tomorrow.
And so it goes,
PS One translation of Ciara, a Gaelic word, a dark haired girl with brown eyes.
