I’m looking out on a vista of snow covered roofs and watching the rifts in the cloud cover and trying to decide if the gleams of colour are light puce or slate grey or even a subdued rosy gleam. My reliance on ancient weather superstitions is because my flight back to Barcelona is at 10.30 tomorrow morning and Bristol airport has been closed for most of the day.
The easyJet website is extraordinarily unhelpful in giving any useful information about whether or not a plane might be on stand midmorning for the Catalan bound passengers to embark.
I will delay panic until much later tonight (and possibly very early tomorrow morning) or simply resign myself to a wasted day of airport waiting before I regain the house.
Apart from failing to get the key stage 3 and 4 text books in geography and history for a colleague in school I have done virtually everything that I set out to do on this holiday. With the exception of Aunt Bet (who is marooned with daughter in the wilds of deepest darkest England in the cosy comfort of a remote house) most relatives have been visited.
From the self-indulgent buying of a new telephone for the house to having a most satisfying Indian meal all the odd little tasks that I set myself have been (mostly) completed. Clothes have been swept into my case from various shops which purport to have prices which cannot be beaten. The armoury of my case has been augmented by the purchase of various knives to replace the misused vegetable knife of the splayed serrations. I have even emulated the behaviour of J R Hartley in the advertisement where he earnestly enquires after a copy of a book on fly fishing.
Not that I have developed an interest in things Piscean, rather have I stooped to purchasing my own monograph on Dylan Thomas during our visit to the WJEC this wintry morning!
The real question which faces me now is about the weight of stuff that I am taking back to Spain. The Pauls have recently been given a handy luggage-weigher which I have already pressed into service so that I do not lurch into the murky financial depths of ‘extra baggage’ charges in easyJet‘s tight fisted attempts to squeeze every last penny from hapless travellers.
While I gnaw my fingernails to the quick I can look back on a most satisfying trip to the UK where even the weather has done its best to keep me amused.
Cardiff’s transformation has been extraordinary. The centre of the city, especially in The Hayes is almost unrecognizable. I particularly like the fact that the new, new library (the second adjective refers to the fact that the city actually built a new temporary building to house the library while the peregrinating books were forced from pillar to post by the exigencies of allowing the complete commercial exploitation of valuable real estate in the centre of the city) dominates the pedestrian area in The Hayes and terminates the view down from the Old Central Library. For a bibliophile like me the primary of the building of the book in the jostling demands for attention from seductive shop windows is a positive delight!
At long last Cardiff now has the largest John Lewis Partnership outside London as well as a wealth of other shops in the extended Shopping Mall which links Queen Street with the start of Bute Street. Although the extension of shopping opportunities at first sight appears bewildering I do not think it would take me longer than a couple more visits before I had orientated myself and sorted out ‘my’ shopping centre. I do follow my mother in being able to assimilate shops with remarkable ease!
Now that Christmas decorations have come down I am more nearly in Old Haunts as far as my accommodation is concerned. ‘My’ chair, over which I have slung my leg in a long accustomed slouch; the people; the sights are all familiar – and Catalonia seems a long way away!
My flight is no more than sixteen hours away but neither the web site of Bristol Airport nor the site of easyJet have deigned to give any indication about whether the flight that I propose to take is likely to take off either at the state time or with the passengers that planned to fly in it.
I will now go to pack (and more importantly weigh) my case, with no lively expectation that I will be stepping into Barcelona Airport at something approaching lunch time tomorrow.
Have faith!
The easyJet website is extraordinarily unhelpful in giving any useful information about whether or not a plane might be on stand midmorning for the Catalan bound passengers to embark.
I will delay panic until much later tonight (and possibly very early tomorrow morning) or simply resign myself to a wasted day of airport waiting before I regain the house.
Apart from failing to get the key stage 3 and 4 text books in geography and history for a colleague in school I have done virtually everything that I set out to do on this holiday. With the exception of Aunt Bet (who is marooned with daughter in the wilds of deepest darkest England in the cosy comfort of a remote house) most relatives have been visited.
From the self-indulgent buying of a new telephone for the house to having a most satisfying Indian meal all the odd little tasks that I set myself have been (mostly) completed. Clothes have been swept into my case from various shops which purport to have prices which cannot be beaten. The armoury of my case has been augmented by the purchase of various knives to replace the misused vegetable knife of the splayed serrations. I have even emulated the behaviour of J R Hartley in the advertisement where he earnestly enquires after a copy of a book on fly fishing.
Not that I have developed an interest in things Piscean, rather have I stooped to purchasing my own monograph on Dylan Thomas during our visit to the WJEC this wintry morning!The real question which faces me now is about the weight of stuff that I am taking back to Spain. The Pauls have recently been given a handy luggage-weigher which I have already pressed into service so that I do not lurch into the murky financial depths of ‘extra baggage’ charges in easyJet‘s tight fisted attempts to squeeze every last penny from hapless travellers.
While I gnaw my fingernails to the quick I can look back on a most satisfying trip to the UK where even the weather has done its best to keep me amused.
Cardiff’s transformation has been extraordinary. The centre of the city, especially in The Hayes is almost unrecognizable. I particularly like the fact that the new, new library (the second adjective refers to the fact that the city actually built a new temporary building to house the library while the peregrinating books were forced from pillar to post by the exigencies of allowing the complete commercial exploitation of valuable real estate in the centre of the city) dominates the pedestrian area in The Hayes and terminates the view down from the Old Central Library. For a bibliophile like me the primary of the building of the book in the jostling demands for attention from seductive shop windows is a positive delight!
At long last Cardiff now has the largest John Lewis Partnership outside London as well as a wealth of other shops in the extended Shopping Mall which links Queen Street with the start of Bute Street. Although the extension of shopping opportunities at first sight appears bewildering I do not think it would take me longer than a couple more visits before I had orientated myself and sorted out ‘my’ shopping centre. I do follow my mother in being able to assimilate shops with remarkable ease!
Now that Christmas decorations have come down I am more nearly in Old Haunts as far as my accommodation is concerned. ‘My’ chair, over which I have slung my leg in a long accustomed slouch; the people; the sights are all familiar – and Catalonia seems a long way away!
My flight is no more than sixteen hours away but neither the web site of Bristol Airport nor the site of easyJet have deigned to give any indication about whether the flight that I propose to take is likely to take off either at the state time or with the passengers that planned to fly in it.
I will now go to pack (and more importantly weigh) my case, with no lively expectation that I will be stepping into Barcelona Airport at something approaching lunch time tomorrow.
Have faith!
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