We are up early and all is bustle in the Windjammer. ‘Washy washy’ has been promoted and is today on duty as ‘Dishy washy’, clearing tables. She will work on-board for eight months without a whole day off. More goodbyes before a very long wait in the queue for our pre-booked airport shuttle. Annoyingly, we could have booked an excursion that showed us round Seattle and deposited us at the airport but unfortunately, I didn’t realise this until I had booked flights that were too early for this, another opportunity missed.
There are no problems boarding the plane for Washington Dullas; not to be confused with Dallas. Once again the plane is full and cabin luggage is being prized from people’s hands to be stashed in the hold. I inadvertently push in front of a formidable American lady who was standing in the group 4 queue. Apparently I was supposed to intuit that she was actually part of group 3 and thus entitled to board before me. We are again issued with pretzels and Sprite, so it seems they are standard fare and not just a bonus because of our delay outward bound. There is an airport shop at Dullas that is clearly not afraid to display its political leanings. There are various anti-Trump items, ranging from rubber ducks to uncomplimentary colouring books.
Our changeover goes without a hitch this time and our luck is in as we have an empty seat beside us. Once again I am struck that aeroplane food involves a ridiculous amount of plastic packaging. Airlines seem to be missing a green credentials USP here. I fail to achieve more than level 6 on Bejewelled; so my level 12 on the journey out must have been exceptional. I am slightly concerned to find water dripping on my head. Is this something I should be panicking about? Is something leaking from the luggage compartment overhead, or is it more sinister? Whatever it is does not seem to have dire consequences and we disembark from our fifteenth flight in the last six months, thankful that there are no more planned.
Once at Heathrow, it takes an hour, travelling up and then down again on various lifts to get to the Central Bus Station for our coach. Here our luck ends, as it is full, so we are unable to sit together. I am not sure who has the shortest straw. My seat mate has some unpleasant lurgy but I do at least have my fair share of the seat. Chris is perched on the edge of what little his generously proportioned seat mate has left him. It is quite difficult to doze off delicately sat next to a stranger. Bar a short doze on the second plane we been awake for twenty four hours. Home then to try to catch up on all the emails that have arrived whilst I have been in this internet black hole. Until next time.