Falklands adventure

It's not every husband that leaves home for an apparent two year trip abroad who returns home after a couple of days.  With the Dakar drama over this was my lot last Tuesday. I arrived home via train and taxi around lunchtime to see just how much of my life had already been tidied away.  Now Dianne and I can always count on Sarah to shop one of us to the other - and this she duly did tonight.  I was told that my mugs had been restored to the kitchen cupboard - however it was clear that the study had been extensively "re-modelled" in my short absence! Shortly after I arrived the window cleaner slipped his card through the letter box to announce he wanted paying for his services.  Normally that's a task I perform - now its a task that others can pick up.   I was gently amused by the failure to get a radio working in the kitchen- largely because it hadn't been recognised as an internet radio - and it simply needed the wifi password entering! My unscheduled stop in Br

Today was meant to be so different.   I was meant to be waking up to the sights and smells of a new home on the Falkland Islands.   Instead I’m feeling dirty and sweaty on a train home to Cheshire lugging more than 60kgs of luggage around.   Such are the effects of an aborted flight to the Falklands. Oxford station I spent last night in Gateway House at Brize Norton.   If I said the conditions were spartan I’d be exaggerating.   At least they were there and clean, even if my barracks style room would probably be described as unfit in a prison inspection.   It is many, many years since I’ve seen a floor of bedrooms sharing three toilets and two showers - and one of them was unserviceable.   As my taxi driver described it this morning - “They had an earthquake last year and it did £6m in improvements!”   Ironically whilst I’m sure the taxi-driver was joking - Oxfordshire is geologically stable afterall- there was evidence that an inner pane of double glazing had shattered at the end of

This has been a very strange wedding anniversary.   So much of it has been spent flying between Brize Norton and Dakar sat in seat K31.   Whether through Covid or just a low load factor I have had seat H31 alongside me vacant.   I’ve turned it into a personal dumping ground for gadgets and my neck pillow.   This has helped me pass the time.   I’ve been occupying a very small space for close on 18 hours as I write.   It’s not been too uncomfortable.   A bit of stiffness in one knee appears to be the worst of it for now and sore ears from wearing various forms of face covering.   I’ve learnt the hard way that a snood covering is kinder on your ears! Comfort at 40,000 ft It appears most of us travelling alone have spare seats alongside us.  Some people have been fortunate to have the central row of four seats all to themselves.  That arrangement has allowed some of them to lie down to sleep - although that didn’t look particularly comfortable.  I’ve had a few hours of fitful sleep large

I suppose I have been a relatively lucky air traveller recently.   In the four years I spent flying all over the wide continent of Europe for the Council of Europe I never suffered any long delays or unexpected ‘epics.’   It appears my luck has run out today.   Our flight from Brize Norton to Dakar was largely uneventful - primarily because it was an 01:10 flight on a Monday morning, most of us had been at the airport for around 5 hours before the scheduled take-off time and we.   However as mentioned in my previous post there was unexpected fog and mist over Dakar. Low cloud over Dakar The aircraft held for a considerable time before making a landing approach.  Now I love watching the flaps go down, the shudder of the landing gear moving into place and the noticeable change in pitch of the aircraft as it gently sinks towards the airport.  However this morning as we approached Dakar airport from the south over the sea there was a thick bank of mist.  The unmistakeable roar of the engin

Today is my wedding anniversary.   Happy 29th anniversary Dianne!   Sorry I’m spending it flying away to my new role in the Falkland Islands.   In the departure lounge As I pen this I am 40,000 feet up in the air above the Atlantic coast of Senegal in an Air Tanker aircraft about to make its decent into Dakar to refuel.  Dawn is breaking - and the sky is quickly transitioning from inky black, through deep purple to blue.  There are fiery clouds reflecting the sun’s light.  The outside temperature - according to the telemetry - has been as cold as -60C.  It’s warming up a little - to a balmy -38C.  Its interesting just how cold the air is so close to the equator at altitude.  I’m in window seat 31K on the starboard side where there is little to see other than pale blue sky and cloud.  As the aircraft tracks southward I can concentrate on writing as all the kaleidoscope effects of dawn and perhaps a vista of the African coast are on the other side.  Interestingly, for me at least, the p