It was an early rise this morning for the sake of the airport.
Father Basden, the great pastor of St. Bede’s – long may and his tribe he thrive – was the consummate host during my time here. He even made sure – Bless Him – I would be fortified with strong coffee and toast with marmelade!
On the way to the airport we passed by a sight which was quite common during my sojourn: the Clapham South tube station.
BTW… I eventually asked the station manager there about their penchant for playing Gregorian chant or Beethoven over the PA. He said that the music was assigned centrally, that they didn’t choose their own music. I found that rather interesting. Still, I recall now that in the USA there are some cities wherein, in places where rapscallions might congregate and, subsequently, think about mischief, speakers were wired up and tunes suitable to the Lawrence Welk crowd were played. The rapscallions would very quickly cease to congregate in those places and go elsewhere. I am supposing that the same theory applied to the tube station.
No problems on the way to Heathrow. The trip took 35 minutes… at this early hour, that is.
Problems, however, began at Heathrow. Surprised?
First there was the queue for the queue to which I was directed by a very officious and self-confident young lady. Incorrectly directed, I might add. I rapidly figured that one out. I had already checked in via internet and printed my pass. All I had to do was check my bag. I had mentioned that, of course, but… well…. Having spotted the BAG DROP sign where there was another, shorter queue, I thus jumped out of the queue’s queue for the check in and queued in the bag drop queue, which didn’t have a queue for its queue. About ten minutes later I was through and on to security.
“But Father! But Father!”, you are no doubt saying. “THAT doesn’t sound like much of a problem! Why are complaining about problems when so far it has been smooth sailing?”
Aside from the fact that the queue (yes… I simply like typing that word) to which I was officiously and officially directed was the wrong queue, and it began as a queue for another queue – did I mention that? – and that I would still be out there now, had I not worked the problem, at the very counter itself I was issued a new boarding pass.
“Hmmm…” quoth I.
Apparently, my flight will be delayed a couple hours because of a late arrival. That will make my connection on the other end a little sporty depending on how security goes on Stateside Terra Firma.
At least there is a good lounge here. The Sky Team lounge at Heathrow is by far better than any of the increasingly dismal Delta, etc., lounges at US airports. Hands down.
And the wifi here is excellent, so far.
After hours of unexplained, rolling delays, we have boarded.
Back in the USA, I am rebooked and waiting for my last leg to take off!