Home Again

This is my rather crap photo of Ibiza airport… in my defence I was walking at the time and it was rather early in the morning. The first rubbish thing about easyJet (count them if you will) – bad flight times. All the shops were closed or closing so I couldn’t tell you if they had anything good. We did pass David Guetta’s airport lounge nightclub which I have to say was particularly unappealing after a long coach transfer and waiting for a rubbish flight.

There weren’t enough seats at the departure gate (are there ever?) but happily thanks to a bit of a dash to the queue front we got to board right behind the people that had paid for the privilege to board first – and when I mean right behind I mean right behind, they had no head start whatsoever, complete rip off for them. Then we all reached the plane doors…. where we had to wait for 15 minutes whilst the plane was cleaned or whatever it was that was happening to it. I mean why even send us through to board if they weren’t ready? I then had a flight back with…. yes you guessed it, a screaming baby. Ugh my goodness, why do parents bring babies on flights (especially flights at 1am when it’s safe to presume lots of the passengers would like to sleep), it was just dreadful and the babies awful mother kept ignoring the seatbelt signs and walking up and down the aisle with it which made it cry more whilst she was harried by the flight attendants.

Finally I was back in blighty and they’d even put up some bunting for my arrival at the train station (or at least I like to think it was for me). And so it was onto the underground.

Past the armed police (ahh!) and back to Norwich, a fine city.


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