Flap Yer Arms Hard Boy, A Mancy Airport Tale

Curse you Malone-Lee (first year English Teacher) for teaching me how to spell Q-U-E-U-E and leaving it imprinted in my head with a auditory memory of the whole class chanting the bloody word. Why the curse? Because that was the story of our day in the Land of Manc. Took an hour to check in because the conveyor belt had been lent by the airport to the Beeb for the Generation Game and came back from them completely shagged. This tempted me to yell 'Teas made, Cuddly Toy, Facial Sauna, Some Other Shite You Never Wanted' and 'Didn't he/she delete as appropriate do well?' I resisted the temptation because in these unhappy times levity at Airports is never a wise move. Still on the plus side we meet a pleasant family and we're in august company as Dame Tanni Grey-Thompson checks in and shows the same stoical patience that the rest of us have too!

Eventually we check-in and decide food options are better before the security check if only marginally, we opt for Garfunkels. Personally I'd rather eat at Simon's I find Art slightly sinister. Food is OK but it ain't stunning. Anyway once done the curse of Malone-Lee strikes again. Folk still aren't used to regulations regarding the transport of liquids. The result another huge Q-U-E-U-E to get through to the departure lounge. Miracle of miracles 45 minutes after starting we get through to the security check and I don't bleep (with the exception of the bleep track in my head). I know they have to do it but I'm gonna have to confess later to the Americans that I'm not a terrorist, never committed genocide, been a member of the Nazi/Communist parties. If they'll take my word on it why can't our people just chill a bit? (All of this makes a change, usually I bleep and get felt up by some geezer who doesn't tip me a wink, flash me a smile or offer any vague sense of encouragement).

We're flying My Travel, cheap and cheerful which means that the mean gits will flog you every drink they serve. If they didn't use disposables I'd offer to wash up for a free cuppa.

Finish 'The Bedroom Secrets of the Master Chefs' with four hours flight to go. The entertainment on the flight doesn't offer a film I want to watch and I'm on a bit of a musical break. Scribble the usual Visa Waiver form as some sort of diversion (I don't fill it in right though and at customs it requires some slight additional attention). Occasionally catch glimpses of Canada out the window but can't see any Mounties. Scribble notes for this thing. Use a dash for the downstairs bog by Monst and Cal to get a new book, they are to quick though but Monst takes pity on me and hands me 'Glue', I didn't pack 'Porno' somehow it isn't quite Disney. I get bored and reach for the Jonathan Richman. Eventually we arrive....and need to sort the transfers.

Jonathan Richman - Pablo Picasso/I Was Dancing in a Lesbian Bar

Booke of Dayes

The alarm goes at 5.00 am and the family rises, pours into the car and off to the land of Manc's airborn escape route. Drop the family and head staight back home because I'm expecting the cavity wall insulators and the man from Sky today. The man from Sky he comes first at around 11, in the interim there is much phoning trying to do the news etc , as I work from home.

The Sky engineer appears and sorts his stuff and is nearly finished by the time the insulators arrive. They require me to check the loft - boo! Lesson on using Sky. The drilling from the insulators drives me nuts. By three'ish I'm hungry and head to the supermarket, grab some bread and head home. Work on, set the Sky+ Box to record. Cook a fine chilli and enjoy eating it. More cataloguing, desperately trying to get to the bottom of the Cheshire and Merseyside E-Books.

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Vibrating Seats

Scran, boredom results in tour of the airport shops, Monst and Cal settle down to a film. I attempt to blog. Plan is for a dry trip, because I've read it reduces jet lag, and I have to drive at the other end. Normally I'd be less bothered but after a long haul I'm taking no risks.

Other preparatory element is an adventure in a massage chair. Very relaxing having your back beaten up by an inanimate object for three hundred seconds. Could do with one at home.

Manchestaaahhh

At least that's what the sign says. Currently in what using the patent Malone-Lee chanting spelling system I know to be a Q U E U E, a year pre-a levels the geezer taught me and that's what I remember him for most. Check-in opens in twenty minutes so I have plenty of time to observe the airport, nip for a quick slash and suffer jealousy as a result of coffee in the hands of a family ahead of us in the (let's see how does it go?) Q U E U E.