Londonium or bust

Friday 8th November, and I've been to London today to collect a new car for work. 

- Up early to get to the train station in time. Good. 

- Caught the train to the airport, a journey that was normal and uneventful. Good.

- Schiphol passport check - not so good. 

The self service system for those lucky enough to have recently renewed or replaced their passports with a modern biometric one worked quickly for them. 

- The priority check worked quickly for those with a privileged lifestyle. 

- Did the pleb channel run quickly? No. 

How come the remainder of us are treated to a much higher degree of suspicion and scrutinised for longer, resulting in long slow queues which generate irate flyers all of whom would rather be fawning over the duty free? 

The flight was a bit of fun though with some bumps and drops as we made our final approach. And how I thought this was going to be MY final approach. Jings, crivens and help ma boab. Well we landed....... within sight of the runway....... (slight exaggeration) much to the consternation of the grumpy steward who must have got out the wrong side of his (or somebody else's) bed. When we came to a halt, I kept looking out of the window to see if I could spot the pearly gates, so convinced was I that we hadn't actually made it.

That touchdown was more spectacular than anything the NFL can muster and worthy of a collection for the driver. I use that term advisedly 'cos I have reservations about calling him or her a pilot. 

It was then Gatwick's turn to provide us plebs with a long queue for passport check. Question: Why can't the guy at Schiphol phone through everyone's details to the guy at Gatwick and save us all a lot of hassle?? Just how many passports are going to expire during the flight? Maybe they should only check those with babies born during the flight 'cos clearly through no fault of its own the baby will be trying to enter the country without a passport. The rest of us already have one thank you very much.

The Gatwick Express is a great idea and reasonably priced for a quick run into London but if I may offer a suggestion to them it would be this:- it might just be helpful to identify the first class coaches - perhaps with a big "1" or the word "First". When the tannoy  announcement was made informing us all that no supplement is payable on board and fines will be issued to those sitting in 1st class without the appropriate ticket, there was a lot of panic-stricken travellers suddenly looking around for any indication as to whether we were in 1st or 2nd class. (and  none to be seen). It quickly became apparent that I was indeed ensconced in the plush class and mass passenger evacuation quickly followed the first person being checked and issued with a fine for only having a 2nd class ticket. So cattle class it was to London Victoria where I have my inevitable fall out with the tube system. You see, on underground there is a presumption that you know where your tube ultimately goes to, even if you are only going a few stops. I know it's really the only way to do it, and for locals or regular travellers that's fine. But for non Londoners like me, using a particular route for the first time, I don't know whether I've been drilled, bored or countersunk.

On the upside, reading a British newspaper on the tube was a novelty; so much so I nearly missed the station where I changed underground lines from Victoria line to Picadilly line and on to Arnos Green.

Stepping out of the station, I asked the first person I saw if they could direct me to the garage. Bemusement reigned supreme but an effort was made, contemplations followed and a change of both heart and direction resulted in an admission that he had no idea. The next person was definitively unsure. That's a helpful combination - NOT.  I thanked him and, with relief to be free of that buffoon, asked another. All in, I asked 5 different people for directions and 5 different routes were proffered. Confidence and positivity was not in abundance.  However, 3 of them aimed me generally in the same direction so I figured I'd head that way and ask someone else further down the road. Result. I found a postman. Who better to ask? He knew exactly where the garage was and even described the gas tank that I knew was nearby. Great. Only he directed me back from whence I came and away from my initial route. Have faith Gordon...... Be positive........ Rewarded......... 

The garage was duly located and a great welcome received. Naturally they were expecting me, had the car ready and quality coffee. (For those of you that know me from old, I've not given up tea, but have become a bit of a coffee covert.  Strong, black, sweet and hot). I digress.

Handover complete without a hitch, I set the Sat Nav for Harwich and looked out for a Tesco enroute. I had forgotten about the Sat Nav voice. When in town, the directions are precise and accurate. I had a good chuckle however when I got into the motorway and she told me to "stay on this road for a long time". Are we talking more than a mile or perhaps an hour? It tickled me.

As an aside, my better half and I need to cut the umbilical cord of dependency and stop relying on favourite British treats like Coleman's mustard, Tetley tea bags, salad cream and Imperial Leather. It's not as if there aren't alternatives in The Netherlands, but old habits ....... and all that.

A smooth drive up to Tesco listening to radio 2 - a first for a long time - then stocked up on lots of goodies including Lambs rum, Branston pickle, pork pies 

and real Scottish cheddar cheese. The downside - I'm £411 worse off. On the upside, I can feel a cheese and pickle toastie coming on for lunch tomorrow, when I get home.

Tesco 1 - Gordon 0. 

No change there then. 

The rain hit with a vengeance on the way to Harwich. Other than for the ferry, don't go there. I spent about 40 minutes driving around and other than a chip shop and a pizza takeaway there are no decent eateries. Back to the ferry terminal and the Brewers Fayre for dinner. I recommend the sausage and mash with caramelised red onions and a thick rich gravy. Simple, but tasty. 

I've made it. It was worth the long wait before they started boarding, but I am impressed. The cabin is ideal and the bar has a smokers lounge. How frightfully civilised. No more going outside to the cold and wet for half a smoke - the other half being forgone to return to the warmth of the bar. Despite still berthed in Harwich (it doesn't sail for another hour), I can't help thinking that I shouldn't have started reading that book about a survivor from the Costa Concordia. Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean the bastards aren't out there, trying to get me! I also can't stop looking at the weather, which is miserable. Not surprisingly, I've come to the conclusion that even Oban is a better class of cold and wet. 

Currently I am enjoying getting on the outside if a rather nice drop of the black stuff. Shame I've got to drive first thing in the morning. I'm quite in the Friday mood for a few. Still, there's always tomorrow - in the comfort of my own home, in the company of my lovely lady and augmented by some Stilton on oatcakes from Tesco.

All credit to the skipper of the ferry. I didn't feel or hear it move off and slept peacefully all night until the wake up announcement at 06:30 telling me that breakfast was being served. At 08:00 I disembarked and by 08:45 was safely home with the need to find storage space for £411 worth of grocery shopping. A very brief, interesting, enjoyable and worthwhile trip back to Blighty.

Some may say that since I've started blogging I've become somewhat of a grumpy old man. Nonsense. 

I was a grumpy old man long before I started blogging. When you turn 40, (okay, that wasn't today or yesterday) something triggers in your psyche that gives you a different outlook and the need to vocalise your observations. Trust me, I'm a fully qualified grump. Haha