One
last brekkie at the hotel… I’ve rather got used to having a “full Greek” every morning. Having
stuffed myself silly we went back to our apartments to pack. It was surprising
how long it took to round up all my errant odds and ends and get them back into
the case.
And
with our stuff together we dumped it into "My Boy TM"’s
room (as we didn’t have to be out of that
room until much later), did the formal checking-out thing, and then spent
the morning slobbing by the pool alternately swimming and doing crossword
puzzles.
A
late lunch was a toasted cheese sandwich at the beach bar, a shower, then we
sat about waiting for the arrival of the coach to take us to the airport. It
arrived, we loaded up, and we set off. Ten minutes early.
I
wonder if anyone else had been hoping to get that coach?
Kos
is a small island; we got to the airport in about twenty minutes and had done
all the passport and luggage nonsense within another twenty minutes.
Then
the boring bit started. Gatwick airport had lots of shops; Kos’s airport had
three. One sold poncey perfumes, one was a vastly overpriced burger stall, and
one sold pretty much anything you can get in the high street but at three times
the price.
It
was a shame that they were giving out comprehensive tourist guides; we could
have done with those on the way in.
I
slept in the waiting area for an hour or so until it was time to get onto the
plane. There was then a frankly ridiculous system in which enough people were
allowed through a gate to fill a bus. Said bus then drove a hundred yards to
the plane, unloaded everyone and drove back again. It would have been far
quicker to have everyone walk to the plane.
As
we boarded the plane I did snigger. The aisle was blocked by some bloke who was
standing with a shamefaced expression whilst his wife nagged from her seat.
After a couple of minutes, the bloke in the queue in front of me swore under
his breath then announced to the man very loudly “You! Sit Down!” And once the chap had sat the irate fellow then (equally loudly) announced to the wife “Now carry on nagging him!”.
I
did chuckle.
To
be fair we did get airborne a lot quicker on the way home than we did on the
way out. After an hour or so spent reading a book about the Kray twins I needed
a tiddle. As I walked to the loo I noticed that pretty much everyone on the
plane was asleep. Once tiddled I sat back in my seat and woke an hour or so
later to find the plane lights had been turned off. Everyone was sleeping.
We
arrived at Gatwick on time; at 9.25pm local time. We had the obligatory
passport and luggage performance and was out in fifty minutes. Far faster than
on the way in.
Having
said our goodbyes to everyone else we took the shuttle bus to the long-stay car
park to get my car. The woman on the counter was far better than the idiot to
whom I’d given my key, and I got the key back in seconds.
My
car was a hundred yards away; I had been expecting the worst. But my car was
fine. Mostly. From the mileage I could see that it had been driven from the
drop-off to the storage bay and no more. But whoever had driven it had adjusted
absolutely every single thing they could have adjusted. The seat’s position and
posture were wrong for me, as were all of the mirrors. Bearing in mind it had
only been moved a hundred yards was there any need to adjust anything?
Pausing
only briefly for McScoff at Clackett Lane services we were home just before
midnight. I was so pleased to see my dogs.
Fudge
has lost weight…
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