English people are so patient aren’t we?
So it’s hot. It’s very hot. And where am I? Standing in a plastic tunnel waiting to board Yorkshire Airlines back to Leeds Bradford.
Typically I’d wait until everyone else had boarded before heading to the plane, as I don’t see the point in standing in a queue when there are seats to sit on! However, because I arrived at the gate just as it opened, and am still half asleep, I just carried on walking and am now close to the front of the queue.
At this point I check the time, to see we’re actually not scheduled to board for another 25 minutes. Erm, confused.com? Ah lovely, the inbound passengers are approaching, they haven’t emptied the plane yet, let alone cleaned it ready for the next flight. Hot recognition that this could be a long wait. In a hot tunnel. Surrounded by perhaps the most disillusioned group of women you’ll ever meet.
Lis, Linz and Lore’a (sure there could’ve been a T in there if/when she was christened?) want to get home (novel, wonder what they think the rest of us are here for?…) They share with each other (and most of the tunnel) that “the did this t’us in’t Malaga, med us wait for ages”. I’m not convinced the Spanish team are intentionally trying to roast us, but the Lasses seem to think so! This could get quite entertaining; my ears are now locked into their conversation with a Hislop-esque cheekiness in mind!
At the front of the queue (priority boarding) is a lady in a wheelchair and her two companions. Linz and Lis are chuntering away behind me, until Lore’a announces she’s going to throw said woman out of that wheelchair in a minute, just do she can sit down! After a few more such comments and some colourful language, the classic liner comes. “We’re too flippin patient us English aren’t we? We’re idiots!”
At this point, I’m unable to contain my laughter and have to disguise this as a cough (as you do), at which point the silent older couple in front think I’m choking on my haribo, and turn to see if I’m ok. The others around can see exactly what’s going on and a few wry smiles, wiggly eyebrows and winks come my way. Ah, we’re boarding, lovely 🙂
Lost on a plane
Not me, the pilot! This could be fun! He’s just announced ‘Lads & lasses, boys & girls, we’re just flying over the South coast and are now heading up towards London. From there, we’ll skirt round the west of Heathrow (makes sense…) and follow the A1 north (erm…) past Northampton (?), Birmingham (eh?) and Wakefield (where is he?) before descending onto Leeds’ northern runway bang on time” (could be a slight delay whilst the Captain’s satnav recalculates, me thinks). He continues “there’s some rum cloud in Leeds, and it’s about 12 degrees…” what? Oh lord I’m not ready for this “… but it’s not raining!” Joy! Welcome to the UK in the height if British summer; it’s not raining!
Right, got to switch off all electronic equipment for landing now, let’s hope the SatNav hasn’t brought us to Glasgow?!…