Welcome Home

As most of you are aware I am back in good ole blighty, and what a welcome, I was met at the airport by a whole marching band and what seemed to me like the whole of England at terminal 5 to welcome me back to the mother land. There was a carnival like precession through London with me and my good friend Camille atop an open topped bus with fireworks, overly sized inflatables bobbing along in the English summer breeze champagne corks popping endlessly, the festivities lasted well into the night.

Ok well I think I made that last bit up, ok well maybe I made all of it up, what really happened was Camille and I landed at stupid o clock in the morning where we were treated to a little video on how the new Terminal 5 building worked what sign’s to follow etc (basically the same as any other terminal in fact any other airport in the world) we were then assured by the Pilot that if any of the video was a little confusing there would be an army of ground staff to help us out if we got ourselves lost, so with this newfound directional information and both bursting with excitement over this little adventure we managed to pry ourselves out of our lets say somewhat small airline chairs saying farewell to our lovely neighbours one of which I am quite positive was one of the 2 Ronnie’s you know the small one who I think is actually dead masquerading as some women, and finally managed to leave the plane only to find that there was not an army of ground staff o no there was a sum total of Zero, I think they all forgot to set there alarm clocks that day, so we both had to put faith in the Hilton directional nose which to those who do not know is Camille’s way of saying if we walk around enough we should eventually find our way out or die trying either way we will be free. But lo and behold there was ample signage leading us in the direction of our luggage. Off we both trot with lets say too much hand luggage for a family of 12.

we make it to the luggage area and there we both drop to our knees and pray that our luggage is not in Madrid (well I pray a little bit more that Camille as most of the luggage is mine) we sit and we wait then we wait a bit more........... and then like a vision through those dangling bits of plastic comes...... nope not my luggage so we wait some more........ finally after every single passenger has collected there luggage left the airport and arrived home our luggage comes through so we load up make a count yes we have all 9 bags!! And we head off.

Through customs with no uncomfortable lets say private searches and out in to the big world that is arrivals, we both get greeted by a I use the word loosely lovely taxi man I think his opening statement was “I wasn’t expecting 2 of you” what a joyous man. Off we scamper to find the lovely mans car hoping it’s not a mini coz lets be honest if he wasn’t expecting 2 of us he sure as hell wasn’t expecting the amount of luggage we had. Well we find a lift and the clever architects that built Terminal 5 obviously didn’t think it was a good idea for that lift to stop at all the floors so in we jump press the floor 3 button (o yes it might not stop at floor 2,3&4 but there are still buttons) the doors close and we go nowhere Hmmmm clever architect so out we get then we get back in to try again nope we go to 5 Hmmmmm so following the Hilton directional nose we plod along to find one of those army of ground staff to help us out we are met by some Swedish boy with a shirt that says can I help! He point us in the direction of a lift that stops at all floors ( o the simplicity) and off we go home.

So welcoming party............ well my parents are off sunning themselves in Croacia which was nice so we arrive at Camilles parents house to be welcomed by a freshly made cup of Tea and a welcome back hug. What more can you ask for? For the next 2 hours Camille and I end up lying on her parents drive drinking tea.

Welcome back to England!!