The Brazilians come to Britain

Up a Swiss mountain

Edwin and Andre have been touring Italy and Switzerland with Andre's family, using the flexible Euro railcard for unlimited travel. One highlight was ascending to over 12,000 feet by a series of cable cars, where breathing is difficult, and Edwin had to buy a thick jersey against the cold, having only packed for an Italian sun. Apparently, I am to inherit it on their return - Edwin does not routinely wear jerseys.

I had agreed to pick them all up from City Airport on their return. At 6:30pm, when due to leave, we discovered their BA flight was delayed by ninety minutes, so I left about 8:00pm before they took off, as their flight time would be less than my drive time. Just reaching London at the end of the M11, Annie phoned. The flight had been delayed by another hour of more, so she advised me to turn back and wait at a roadside cafe over a cup of coffee. It being nearly ten o'clock on a Sunday night, most places were already shut, so I went back to Stansted service station. Everywhere there was close to shutting too, but I could get a KitKat and a large coffee from a Costa machine. All the flight information proclaimed the flight would still be landing at City; but City Airport has a 10pm curfew and shuts to all flights from 10:00pm.

I could watch the flight as it turned over the Thames estuary towards City, but it then did an abrupt ninety degree turn north; and Annie finally tracked it as diverted to Stansted, rather than Gatwick or God-knows where. Finishing my coffee, I drove into the short-stay at Stansted. Even at eleven pm, the arrivals hall was packed, for it is the hub of Ryanair, and this is the holiday season. A flight was landing every five or ten minutes, with crowds of dreary-eyed people, still in sun hats and fancy shirts, pouring through the gate - though all with minimal baggage, this being Ryanair: much of it looked no larger than an overnight bag. 

Intermixed were other groups diverted from Southend, where a small plane had crashed earlier and closed the airport. An hour later, after clearing immigration, the baggage handlers found a free belt for the BA flight, and a few smarter-looking and well-dressed folk began to trickle through, many with the full BA luggage allowance, marking them our from the tourists. Although Edwin knew and Annie had discovered the City curfew, the passengers hadn't been told until they were on board and now looked totally lost and confused. Even one of the flight attendents told her friend: "I don't even know where Stansted is!" British Airways clearly consider such airports beneath its dignity.

Finally, the boys came through with Elsio and Socorra, Andre's parents, desperately tired looking with their substantial cases, and eager to get a cup of coffee, for here everything was open 24 hours including Smiths and Boots, to cater for the hungry arrivals and we who wait for them, seemingly through the whole night. We drove back in relative silence; I dropped them at the boys' door to finally get home at 1:30am. I just wish them a good week here with Andre to compensate for so terrible a journey.