408: Learning to live with 'minor' upsets!

After an enjoyable week in UK I flew from Stansted to Barcelona yesterday with Ryanair. My journey from Ramsey to the airport went swimmingly: there is a 7:12 bus which goes to Cambridge railway station and from there it is a 30 minute train ride to the airport. Got to the business lounge in good time to knock back a couple of G&Ts before having to report to the departure gate and stand in line to be processed.

A pleasant enough flight as I had paid extra for an emergency exit seat so could stretch my long legs. But we were late taking off and late landing. My problems snowballed from there. They opened the front and rear doors and passengers began disembarking. Unfortunately there were only two buses to convey three bus-loads of people. Those of us who were sitting in the middle of the plane were held on the plane until a bus came back for us. That, of course, put us at the end of a very long queue to have passports checked and I think a couple of other flights had arrived just before us. I finally got through passport control and picked up my baggage. Walked over the bridge to the train station. I could see the train at the platform. I knew it would be a forlorn attempt to reach it in time but felt I should try anyway. If only the guy in front of me at the ticket office hadn't wanted to talk quite so much I might have managed but by the time I got my ticket and fed it into the machine at the barrier I heard the whistle and knew that I would have to watch the train pulling out. 

 

30 minutes wait for the next train. What to do but go for a beer. The next train, unfortunately, pulled out on time but was late into Barcelona Sants, causing me to miss my connection. 90 minutes to wait for the next train to Salou. When I finally arrived at Salou it was after 9 p.m. and to cap it all there was a fine drizzle during the 10 minute walk home from the railway station.

None of this really matters. Why? Let me put things into perspective. I heard yesterday that an army colleague, I had never met him but knew of him and he was a contemporary of mine, had keeled over and died suddenly of a massive heart attack. A fit guy, a sportsman all his life. RIP Paul Lenny Fairclough. Condolences to his family. It is such a tenuous thread holding us to this life that the thread can be severed at any time. (Especially when you get to my age!) What does it matter that I was 2 hours late getting home. At least I woke up this morning.  Enjoy life, everybody. While you still can.

Really strange weather today. Thunder rolling around the sky. One minute bright sunshine and the next rain and then hailstones. We are having power cuts and if I were sensible I would turn off this laptop before it gets fried with a power surge.  Hope it hasn't knocked out the router. Fingers crossed.

I was listening to Russian radio Retro FM this morning when what should I hear but the Goombay Dance band singing "Marrakesh". You can't get much more retro than that! The rain this afternoon reminded me that they also recorded "Rain, rain, rain". So here it is: