Flying high

It's been a while since I lasted posted to this blog. Three years, apparently - how time flies! One new job, two new kits and a brand new second hand car, and we're all caught up.

Today I'm going on one of the work-related magical mystery tours that tend to be proliferate every spring and autumn. This is one of the more exotic trips - destination... well, that's a surprise for now.

I arrived at Heathrow ridiculously early. Purely because the M25 is generally clear when you've left ridiculous amounts of time, but the minute that the M25 thinks you might be only a bit early, on time or late, it throws enough 'long delays' into the mix that the traffic jams make it look like the snake that eats its own tail.

I'm the kind of person that worries she's got the wrong date. Or airport. Despite checking  everything every half hour for the previous three days. So you can imagine the internal meltdown I had when the automatic check in declared that it had no booking under my passport, eticket or booking reference number.

The helpful supervisor of the automatic checkins directed me to a very nice young lady at a check in desk who was completely unphased by my slightly panicky enquiry as to whether I'd got the right day. Yes, I had, and as I was flying business class I could use the fast track through security and the United business lounge. Wait, rewind. Business Class? Highly unexpected and totally awsome.

The security fast track wasn't. Although that was primarily because my bra set the alarms off. Yes, you read that right. My bra. It's a good classic M&S bra, nothing special or kinky, just robust underwire. Very robust apparently, and full of metal.

The United lounge is very lovely. With armchairs. And complimentary food, drink, electricity and armchairs.

So I'm sitting in my airport armchair with a glass of something nice and speculating as to what the next few days are going to bring.