Journey From Hell: the plane I almost missed

I am exhausted. I have been up since six this morning (not an hour with which I am normally acquainted). When I awoke, my head still hurt from all the crying I did yesterday (see previous post) and I couldn't imagine why I wanted to leave the rain-soaked lands of one island for the sun-drenched shores of the other. However, the flight was booked, the taxi was coming, the bag was packed; and Molly was at the cattery.

When the taxi arrived, at 0700, I was ready. We were going to Gatwick. He would get me there in about two and a half hours, he assured me. Absolute worst case scenario, we would be there by 10.30. HUH!!! He was reckoning without a very bad-tempered M1 on a particularly rainy morning, with an unusual weight of traffic. By 09.30 we still had not joined the M25. I was breathing deeply and trying to think calming thoughts. There was no point haranguing the driver - it wasn't his fault.

I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that the flight was leaving at 11.55, and we got to the airport at 11.25. I thanked him, gave him a tip (I think I have become too anglicised) and raced for the check in desk, confident that all would be well - after all, I had checked in on line; all I needed to do was drop my bags.

I arrived at the correct location. I could see no check in desk. I asked. The check in desk had closed five minutes before. Disbelief washed over me. There must have been total desperation in my voice. I was on my way to a family wedding on the following day; I had to get this flight. A kindly security person took pity on me, disappearing behind the desks. Eventually a very disinterested check-in lady arrived, took my bag, pointed me towards security, cheerfully informed me that the flight would close in fifteen minutes.

I do not normally move quickly. Today was an exception. Security was fortunately relatively clear. I headed for the gate. I had ten minutes. No problem. Until I discovered it was the farthest gate - at least a twenty minute walk.

I panted to a stop at the gate at exactly 11.45, the time the gate was purportedly closing, you will recall. They had not started boarding. To say I was peeved is to understate the case considerably.

However, it is now several hours later. I am on the sun-drenched island, the sea is lapping at the shore, the white wine is good and I am relaxed. Perhaps the problem is the travel. Perhaps, I should just stay here.