The journey begins…

And what a journey it was!  Firstly, aeroplane food gets a bad wrap no matter who you talk to; but everyone is missing the point!  The journey is that long it’s not about epicurean delights or gastronomic pleasure, it’s about pure survival instinct – you need the food to prevent actually dying of starvation somewhere over the Swiss Alps and risk being jettisoned into the atmosphere as surplus to requirements baggage (bad for business landing with an emaciated cadaver).  So, eat and be thankful for the life giving nutrients, however simple (though, refer below).

Secondly,  aeroplane toilets!  Wouldn’t want to be a corpulent mass defecator and expect the experience to be an exhilarating theme park ride.  Only used it once to relieve myself of the 48 litres of water someone told me it was a good idea to drink whilst enjoying the propinquity of other humans of questionable evolutionary paths.  Assuming the diluvian of urine actually stays inside the aeroplane I imagine the ballast tanks required re-calibration at this point.  Would have preferred to go for Boonie’s record but in this day and age the cabinet is stocked with craft beer, cider, bespoke gin and quinoa juice – not a VB in sight!

Thirdly, passport control.  Apparently you need to fill out a “landing card” and present it to the suspicious bloke at the gate that either lets you enter the country or takes you into a small room and questions you at length about the head, shoulders and small of the back.  Not filling out the card beforehand was a trap for young players and lead to a minor interrogation of my credentials, wherewithal and general capability of escorting two young boys on a three month holiday (the interrogation ceased when I suggested with a serious face that England were a good chance to win the World Cup).

Here’s the below.  The border control situation wasn’t helped by Sam attempting to smuggle 2kgs of sputum into the country.  Whilst the aeroplane provides (inconveniently) sealed barf bags that are not easily opened in a hurry – thank God for the empty Pringle tube though it requires the concentrated setting as opposed to the shot gun expurgation and luckily Sammy’s aim was pinpoint – the nicely dressed and coiffured hostesses aren’t keen on getting their hands dirty, or in this case wet and so the steaming bag of regurgitate left the plane with us as carry-off luggage.  Interestingly there are no bins before the border control due to disposable explosives being previously left behind for someone else to deal with – I get that but the warm vomitous was starting to stretch its welcome and certainly wasn’t received with open arms by the UK.

So, we enter the Uk (albeit with a minor “watch” warning from the border officials that is distributed to all authorities, including pubs and retailers of fermented ales)…