The journey home

I left the boat at lunch time and the taxi driver sped through the sand dunes just outside of Eastbourne, to the airport. The airport was just a flat part of the desert with a fence around it and a kind of warehouse as a terminal. The weight was lifting from my shoulders and the hour long delay just meant that I got to sit quietly with a cold beer and look out across the desert for a little longer.

Early this morning after many many hours, we landed, with a moderate bump, at Heathrow airport. As my friends at home will know, Heathrow is a pain in the neck for us Brighton dwellers and the best way to cover the 70 odd miles, is by bus. The bus takes about an hour and a half.
Fate was on my side because a bus was sitting ready to leave, the driver took my case, threw it in the compartment and told me that because he was late, just to jump on (without buying a ticket) Wow cool. The bus then trundled as it does, between all of the terminals before hitting the motorway, then it does the same at Gatwick airport which is about half way home.

I don't know what came across me but I decided by chance to leave the bus at Gatwick airport to take a train instead. I had not paid for a ticket for the bus after all and the trains are quicker and more frequent from Gatwick to Brighton. The driver was happily helping everyone with their cases but mine was not there! This could only mean one thing. Some complete numpty had taken my case instead of his own, when he had got off the bus at one of the previous terminals.
Great!! I was left with a black roller bag that was not mine. I did actually laugh and thought of some stranger checking in, to go on holiday with my stuff. What a complete idiot! The bags were not even that similar.

After some hours my bag and I were eventually re-united. The National Express bus dude was surprised when I asked him to take a picture of me and my bag together. Included is a picture of the happy couple.