Everybody! Let's get out of this hellhole

One of the downsides about living in England is that winter lasts too bloody long. Generally, by November I am completely pissed off by it, but by that stage there's still another four months to go before Spring. Talk about pants - it drags on longer than an episode of 'Match of the Day'.

So, after spending months wearing sackcloth, dragging a pit pony through the village (not sure why, it just sounds wintery), and having various frostbitten digits amputated, I decided it was time to leave the UK for sunnier climes for a while.

It was the perfect excuse to visit my chum Clare (the one with the norks) in America. After all, it's always bloody sunny there. And she has got a swimming pool. And she can cook.

And that is why, a couple of days ago, I headed for Gatwick and jumped onto a Virgin flight bound for the US of A (I nearly missed it because I was late - I manged to check in my luggage 2 minutes before the flight closed).

Pic.No.1 This was the view from my seat whilst we were waiting on the apron. See that EasyJet aircraft? I used to supply them with landing gear in the olden days

 

Pic.No.2 This is the view shortly after take-off. If you squint, that lake looks like a penis

 

Pic.No.3 Virgin operate two types of aircraft: Airbus A340-600s and Boeing 747-400s and I had the misfortune to be on one of the Virgin Craplantic Boeing 747s. Unlike the modern A340s, the 747s feature uncomfortable seats and an inflight entertainment designed by Luddites R Us. It made for a long 8h 30mins
 
After booking my flight and seeing the flight details, I did telephone Virgin Craplantic to complain about their old fashioned Boeings. Some random woman told me that they were overhauling the fleet, but obviously that didn't include the aircraft I was on. They should rebrand themselves as 'Rubber Band Airlines'.
 
As well as having to travel on crappy aircraft, there is one other thing that always makes me mad when travelling to the States, and it's the bloody border control. I was going to take a photograph for you, but as soon as I got my camera out, some power-crazy guy with a pencil moustache and uniform shouted at me to put it away. Arsey git.
 
Anyway, it bloody took me an hour and forty minutes to get through the border. We were queuing for so long that the bird behind me fainted and had to be wheeled through in a wheelchair. I wished I had thought about fainting to speed things up. 
 
Eventually though, I did get through and Clare was waiting in the 'arrivals' hall. 
 
She greeted me warmly; "where the bloody hell have you been?"
 
"Border control," I stated, "they are all a bunch of nobs."
 
Clare nodded in agreement, before adding, "let's go find the car."

 

Pic.No.4 So, 40 minutes after being picked up, I was finally sat next to Clare's pool watching the sunset over the lake in the distance. Marvellous. And more of my crazy American antics to come ....

Annie (Lady M) x

Anne Dickens | The day after yesterday

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