Continuing the US trip … this post describes what happened when my ‘plane touched down @ Heathrow Airport (London UK). In many ways I was very fortunate that I arrived (in London). You 
might recall that the very day (a couple either side) of my arrival, the UK had experienced the worst weather for years and there was muchus conernus that I would not be departing (US) as planned. The picture shows the situation @ Heathrow Airport. Thankfully long distance flights from the US were not affected though departures (from the US) were running late.
I had checked in, on time, and eventually (after our goodbyes – be sure to visit tomorrow’s blog post), was called into the departure lounge and, subsequently, after a couple of hours delay, after boarding, the ‘plane took off .
I had never felt so sad, as I did then, at any previous time in my life.
You look out of the aircraft window trying to identify places on the ground but, so very quickly, you are in the clouds and that’s your last view of the US – bear in mind, if you will, the flight had departed in the evening and all was dark outside. My heart ached for the lovely woman, WBG, that I had left behind and I was quite choked and struggling to hold it all together. Unlike the outward journey when the ‘plane had been packed, the return journey saw the ‘plane only about 50% occupied. I was fortunate in that I was sat at the window seat, two seats to my right, and I was the only occupant of the row (i.e. no one else was sat next to me). This proved little comfort though I was able to swing my legs out and in to the foot space of the adjoining seat – just as well because the occupant of the seat in front promptly reclined his chair effectively reducing my ‘free space’ by half. Oh well, you pay your money and you take your choice (class of seat). The lights were dimmed and the food was served – within the hour after take off – you almost got the impression the cabin staff wanted to ‘do their duty’ so they could go off and get some sleep – I don’t think we saw any of them from after the meal being served until about two hours before landing (it was a 10 hour flight).
With time difference the US departure of approx 2030 (or whatever it was) and a ten hour flight, the ‘plane should have arrived at about 0600 UK – of course the clocks had to be changed and the ‘plane arrived late morning (UK time). Looking out of the window all you could see was the while blanket of snow with lines, the roads / highways, clearly visible. We prepared for landing and it was a bit un-nerving. The ‘plane touched down (hurrah!), no bumps but very visibly slewed across the runaway before the pilot corrected the approach. You hold your breath (and your anal sphincter) until the ‘plane came to a normal stop. Then you could release your breathe (and your anal sphincter – albeit in a more controlled way – after all, fluffies aside, ‘accidents’ were to be avoided!). Like sheep we collected up our hand luggage, checked, for the umteenth time, that passport, credit cards, money and all the other stuff was firmly secured in a suitable pocket. The doors of the ‘plane opened and the cold, bitterly cold, air rushed in and found all the warm spots on your body. The ‘plane had landed at a runway someway from the arrival terminal and coaches (very basic airport vehicles) were laid on to ferry passengers. I was one of the last on the coach, standing room only, very tired, unwashed, unshaven, hungry and missing WBG more than you could imagine. Clearance through the airport was quickly dealt with and I found myself back in the ‘don’t hassle me chum’ UK.
I was travelling back to CS, btw the roads were clear of snow which was some consolation, though I wasn’t booked on a coach back to downtown UK. I had a voucher and was advised to exchange it for a boarding card at the airport’s coach office / ticket office. I joined the queue and, eventually, was called forward by Godzilla’s sister. I tried to explain my situation but was simply ignored. My arrival in London, months earlier, had been to Victoria Coach Station and that, strictly speaking, was from where my departure should take place. I was at Heathrow and if I went to Victoria Coach Station and joined a coach, it would bring me back to Heathrow before continuing the journey back to the city near CS. Still with me? Godzilla’s sister insisted that I travel to London (at my own expense), board a coach and travel back to CS, via Heathrow (as I have just describe). Thankfully I had an email from the coach company confirming that I could start my journey from Heathrow. I showed this to Godzilla's sister and she begrudgingly provided me the necessary boarding card. I thought ‘here we go – no doubt that we are back in the UK’.
The coach arrived and I was allowed to board. Don’t forget it had travelled from central London and was partly full. What did I find? The British ‘I want two seats for the price of one’ attitude was alive and well. The ‘trick’ is to sit on the aisle seat leaving the window seat vacant effectively providing a sort of ‘table’ for their newspaper. sweets, coat, bag and other hand held essentials. I asked several people if I might occupy the seat and was answered with ‘that’s my husbands seat / that’s my wife’s seat’. I saw one guy, in the aisle seat, with all his papers etc in the window seat and I requested that I might occupy the seat. He became verbally abusive and informed me that he had ‘spread out my important papers’ and could I sit somewhere else? I told him what I thought when, at that moment, another passenger advised me the seat next to the one that they were sitting in was vacant – it was a young woman- I thanked her - she never spoke throughout the journey except to inform me that she was an exchange student – from America. Honestly, what sort of impression does it create?
The coach set off and, along the journey, I ‘phoned The Elder and asked her to meet me at, let’s say 1800 at the coach station. On arrival we all exited – the awkward guy and myself exchanging well meaning looks….
It was raining, bitterly cold and I was glad when The Elder arrived – 25 minutes late.
Back @ CS there was a pile of mail to go through (after an urgent visit to the loo) then it was time to go to bed – about 2230 UK time (or 1630 US) – my body clock was way out of sync and I had been awake for nearly 36 hours. I was irritable, tired and all the other sad stuff. I felt lonely and my heart ached to back in Texas, five and a half thousand miles away, with my darling WBG – it was a different world – I longed to return to it – I will be doing so, soon – how long before it’s permanent?
More later – the departure from WBG’s place – make sure that you have your tissues ready.
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