One Summer Doesn't make a Swallow!

                     

          First dawn at Roose Ferry - I guess there are worse places to be?

New Zealand's summer is over and once again, swallow-like, I found myself migrating between two hemispheres, leaving behind the blue skies and green hills of Banks Peninsula, to arrive back in Wales, where somewhat surprisingly, I was greeted by blue skies and that intense burst of April greenery. The New Zealand Summer has been a little unsettled, a strong "La Nina" event was playing out in the Pacific but that did mean that the water temperature was higher than normal and the weekly showers kept the grass green. My lawn, thanks to the kind attentions of Mr Mark Walls and his little bag of nitrogen, could have produced four cuts of high quality silage. This kept me busy with the a weekly mowing and him very amused!

Christchurch airport was quite busy as I departed; New Zealand is easing it self out of Covid restrictions and beginning to travel again. I had the pleasant surprise of an upgrade to Business Class on the first leg through to Singapore. I relaxed in a very comfortable seat and dined on fine fare, accompanied by excellent wines, served on linen tablecloths. I had to slum it in Premium Economy for the second half of the trip, and this just confirmed my suspicions that, on Singapore Airlines, at least, this just isn't worth the money: cramped seats and crap food! So its business class (or more likely cattle class), for me from now on.

It was great to see Singapore airport a little more lively again, especially the central bar! This had been closed when I passed through in November. I had six hours to kill and it was just like the old days with the bar full of Australian, Irish and Scandinavian travellers, (why is it always these nationalities that congregate here?) who were all looking to enjoy a few beers and some casual conversation. I fully immersed myself in this flurry of social activity and met a number of interesting folk. Paying by card can be just a little too easy and as I settled gently into my fourth half litre, I realised I was paying over NZ$20 a drink. It was a very pleasant interval and I was fully hydrated at the start of the second leg. It is so important to avoid dehydration on long haul flights!

And so into Heathrow! Everything had operated perfectly to this point, like the well oiled machine air travel is supposed to be. Upon arrival, my passport could not be read at the electronic gate, so that involved a frustrating queue but this minor delay was nothing compared to the chaos the awaited beyond customs - Baggage Claim! A highly sophisticated piece of engineering delivers one's bag up a little conveyor before a sensor operated gate opens and the bag joins others on the revolving belt. This works very well for a while, until the moment when the revolving belt is full of bags, in fact. Then no more cases are delivered. Enterprising passengers, myself included, began the stand the bags upright so as to create more space and a few more bags emerge.

It was about now that I realised none of the bags on the belt were marked "Priority" whereas all the passengers who had emerged first, were from Business Class and Premium Economy. Whether this breach in the system was based on U.K. bloody mindedness or incompetence, I don't know but the outcome was the same - baggage paralysis. Someone had to take the initiative, so assisted by a lady from Wellington and and energetic teenager from Singapore, I began creating a neat pile of bags to one side of the luggage belt. (There was of course no sign of any assistance, no doubt they were all laid low with COVID?)

Order was slowly restored, the bags began to emerge again; some of them even had priority stickers on them; the baggage claim area was slowly filling with shrieks of joy, as people were re-united with their luggage. I felt the warm glow of a job well done rising inside me and, as I was about to high-five my Singaporean friend, a tall angry looking person rushed up to me and stuck his face into mine declaring, in dulcet Cockney tones,

"Get your fu****ng hands of my fu****ng bag! You leave my fu****ng bag alone!" 

I did consider explaining what had been going on but I honestly think he would have hit me! So I smiled and walked away. My bag arrived about one and a half hours after I did, just in time for a quick dash to the bus station to jump on the 8.30am National Express to Cardiff.

This was a uneventful leg of my journey, the motorway was very quiet: petrol prices are currently around NZ$3 a litre and diesel is considerably more expensive (but there is no road users charge in the UK.) As a result of this the roads generally seem a lot quieter. I arrived in Cardiff, where I was to pick up Fran's car and drive west but first I had to get a taxi to (step-daughter) Mel's house, where the vehicle was located. The taxi driver would only accept cash, "I haven't gotta card reader butt!" so we had to divert to an ATM, thereby generating an increased fare, before I could pay him. There was a key hidden in a lock-box at Mel's and the idea was that I would let myself in, grab a quick shower after 40 hours of travel, raid their fridge, steal their wine and leave. (At this juncture, Mel and Al were conveniently sunning themselves in the Maldives.) 

The key didn't fit! It was clearly the wrong key! I tried to climb to the rear of the property, thinking this key might fit a back door. But the property has been recently cat proofed, so that the cats can enjoy the garden, you understand? After forty hours of travel I was not up to climbing over wire topped gates! So I started phoning for help - but first I had to change to  my UK SIM and I didn't have one of those little pokey things to insert into my phone. I eventually managed to use a lapel badge but this ejected everything too quickly and SIM and holder fell onto the gravel. It took ten minutes to find them; I was losing the will to live! Finally I had a functional phone and I started ringing for advice......no-one answered their phones! I was stranded! I had a house and a car and no way of accessing either. Dusty the cat was peering at me through a window, smiling smugly. Eventually, having hacked into their wifi, I managed to get Mel, who was sipping her first cocktail of the evening, beside a pool."Oh dear!" she sympathised, "What a bother!"

Thankfully she was able to arrange the prompt arrival of the cat feeder, with the correct key and I gained access. I quickly showered and drove west. Petty theft of wine had lost some of its appeal!

And so a Welsh Summer looms.......Fran's new hip is settling in quite well and with the help of her crutches, she can just about keep up with my 92 year old mother on a walk around the village. The weather, very strangely for April in Wales, has been dry and sunny but there is a bitterly cold easterly constantly blowing and nothing is growing. And not a swallow in sight anywhere!

More soon! I will be posting periodically on this blog. If you are interested, become a follower and you will be notified of new posts. Just click on the button top left of this blog, to follow me and be informed of future posts.