Well! As I begin this new series of blog postings, it is 21.21BST on 27th August. The only problem is that I am not where I thought I would be at this time. I should be sitting somewhere over the Atlantic, ensconced in Seat 28K (window) gazing out over clouds tinged by the setting sun as the Boeing 767 chases the reddening orb westwards. But no, I'm not. I am sitting propped up in bed in a hotel a very long stone's throw from London's Heathrow Airport. In Room 16 of the Ibis, in fact. Not that there's anything wrong with the Ibis Hotel, I have to say - it's comfortable and clean,and for me, tonight, it's free.
Tell them about the Guinness - that wasn't free!
Oh no! My literary conscience is back again. But he's right, not only was the Guinness I was quaffing at the end of the last sentence not free, it was extortionate! A point of normal Guinness - I'm not sure I wanted to brave the abnormal Guinness - and a small bottle of water cost £6.35!!
Tell them about the free T-shirt!
Ah yes, I am lying on the bed, propped up against two pillows, resplendent in a sparklingly white T-shirt, compliments of British Airways, whilst a small distance away from me lies a complimentary plastic bag, with complimentary shower gel, complimentary tooth-brush, complimentary comb, and complimentary tooth-paste. So free hotel, free dinner ( Caesar Salad starter, followed by traditional English Fish and Chips, except that the Fish and Chips didn't exactly follow, because they came at the same time!), free shuttle bus (which took longer to get from the airport to the hotel than it took to fly 260 miles to that same airport from Newcastle. Flight 40 minutes, bus ride 50 minutes!), free breakfast at 04.00 tomorrow morning and then, yes free shuttle bus to Terminal 4.
If I know British Airways, and they're giving you all these amazing free things, something must have gone wrong today, that linked with the fact that you're sitting half dressed on a bed instead of fully dressed in seat 28K on that Boeing 767 winging its way westward chasing the sun to Montréal.
Very perceptive of you. Family and friends on Facebook will have possibly kept up to date with events as they unfolded at Newcastle International Airport this afternoon. My daughter Julia gave me a lift to the airport, dropping me off at about 14.25, in good time to drop off my baggage and go through security. The flight was due to take off at 15.25, but when I checked in my suitcase, the young lady at the desk informed me that there was a 55 minute delay. She said that if no further delays were incurred, I should have no problem in connecting with the Montreal flight which was due to take off at 18.15, but... if there were, she was sure that something would be done to help me. She must have seen the consternation on my face, as I spluttered, "But, I've got to be there before tomorrow evening ... it's really very important to me..."
"I'm sure it will be fine," she said consolingly.
But it wasn't. The flight was delayed for another 25 minutes, which meant that it would be impossible for me to get through security again (!!???!!!) and to reach the gate before it closed at 17.55. After what seemed an eternity of watching the minutes remaining ticking down, and then sticking on 3 minutes for at least 15 minutes, the overhead screens announced that Flight BA whatever would fly from Gate 3, and that this was the last call for passengers!!! The staff at the boarding check were less than helpful - nothing we can do about it here, unless you want me to cancel your flight. Absolutely not, my eyes flashed the message, and the young lady stepped back in awe.
No she didn't, and no you didn't - keep a grip!
Well, I wished I had. You know - "By the fiendish power invested in my eyes, I demand that you contact Heathrow immediately and have someone lay prostrate on the ground in front of the nose-wheel of the Montreal-bound Boeing, until I arrive, to be whisked through security and along walk-ways, down escalators, down more walkways, by underground shuttle train, up more escalators and finally entering the aircraft, to be greeted by cheering masses in all classes of seating. The captain would be standing, his cap in hand, and congratulating me on being only 20 minutes late for the flight........
Yeah, right.
So, the flashing eyes not having worked, I was about to try the tearful approach, but the queue behind me was building, and therefore I moved disconsolately on to the aircraft....., as I entered the purser, a very pleasant lady looked at my boarding pass and then at me, with sympathy in her eyes. "We don't think you're going to make your connection, but our staff are doing everything they can to re-arrange your flight for tomorrow. I'm sure you are aware that there is only one flight per day to Montreal."
"TOMORROW! TOMORROW? I need to be there before tomorrow night." I'm not sure how many of those words I spoke out aloud, but regaining my dignity, I gently said, I don't want to hold up all of the people behind me, so I shall find my seat and perhaps you could come and talk to me there?"
"Oh yes, of course sir, I'll do that."
And she did, several times during the 40 minute flight,
finally announcing that 'they' had booked me on a flight tomorrow, with Air Canada, which would arrive in Montreal at 18.00.
Unfortunately, at 18.00 tomorrow, I am scheduled to be sitting down for supper at L'Ange Cornu at L'Assomption with my good friends Sylvain and Louise, prior to watching Madame Luce Dufault in concert at the same venue. So I told her that was not satisfactory. She advised me to head straight for the connections desk as soon as we landed. We landed at 17.48 - the Montreal flight was still there, but the whisking through the airport wasn't. Sooooo frustrating!
After 15 minutes or so at the Connections desk, the lady there finally announced that they could get me to Montreal for 12.00 noon (Montreal time) tomorrow - Tuesday 28th. It would require me to catch the Air France flight to Paris at 06.40, and then the 10.30 flight from Paris to Montreal. Time zone differences began to get the better of me for a moment, but bearing in mind that Paris is 6 hours ahead of Montreal, it means I'll be leaving Paris at 04.30 Montreal time.
So, having decided to let my suitcase have a little overnight stay in Heathrow, to be hopefully re-united with it in Montreal, I caught the free shuttle bus to the hotel (normal fare £4).
And that's almost where we began....
So, hopefully everything will go well tomorrow, and I will be sitting in L'Ange Cornu tomorrow evening, waiting to see and hear the wonderful Luce and her musicians perform. That will make all of this worthwhile.
Wow! What a journey!
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