plane daft

waiting for an aeroplane

Here's an easy way to have an adventure.

I squint at diary to confirm the arrival time of the aeroplane that is carrying Brendagh back from Turkey. 7:40. Head off early because I'm neurotic about being late for things.

Heading out of town on the A38, admiring all the weather that's happening over the Mendips ahead of me. There are great glowering storm clouds, and a huge cleft into the upper sky, where there are massive mounds of sunlit fluffy white clouds, like a turbocharged Mister Whippy machine gone berserk.

So I park up in a field near the runway and watch the sky, and the occasional aeroplane.



And I check my mobile for the time, and to make sure Brendagh hasn't texted me to let me know that she's got through baggage collecting.

7:40 comes and goes.

I read some poetry. I write stuff on my little laptop. Then the battery runs low and it goes into hibernation.

There is a ferocious downpour, and dog walkers are running for their cars. I photograph them from the comfort of my own car. Then the windows all steam up.

More time passes, in the way it tends to do.

I drive up to the "ten minutes free" car park at the airport, to see if there has been a delay. I check the Arrivals messageboard.

Hmmm, none of tjhose places sound very Turkish. In particular, no mention of Dalaman, the Turkish airport in question.

I get out my diary and squint rather more closely.

Aha. The flight is due in tomorrow morning at 7:40.

how long have you been waiting?