Well it had to happen one day. I am in work again having been ill for 6 months and, do you know what, I am really looking forward to it. My preparation involved a rip home to Wales.
The stay with my parents was a good idea and it was good to be near the sea again. The trip back was an occasion. I thought all was going well and that coach travel had improved since my university days until I reached Victoria. After a while I realised all was not well.
Icelandic volcanic ash had stopped all coach services to Stansted. I tried to reason with them that I lived near Stansted and did not want to fly. They thought this was novel but said I had to wait until they knew if flights were to be reinstated. I would still be there now if I had not complained.
They decided to send me to Stratford where I could catch a train. I waited dutifully for the Stratford coach only to see it drive in and out with no passengers. It was broken and would be out of service for an hour! This was becoming funny then out of nowhere a Stansted coach drew in and a wild looking driver came in and said he was willing to take people to Stansted. He was obviously a rogue bent on doing his job.
I boarded and arrived home 12 hours older than when the journey began.
It’s really quiet here and the sky is clear. No planes. It’s novel but worrying.