Volcanic Ash….

April 16, 2010

If the world was a fair place right now I should be sitting on the sun soaked terrace of my Andalucian villa sipping a glass of Rioja as my one year old son totters precariously close to to some mountainous edge while he picks up and eats the most dangerous insects and beasts that particular area of Spain has to offer – but that is not where I am!

Along with another 600 000 or so travellers in the UK I was left stranded at Gatwick Airport on Thursday morning as volcanic dust spread across Europe in some eerily biblical way.

“Meh!”said my partner Becky. “Mum’s not going to Spain because of Iceland!”

“Very funny,” I replied without any real humour.

“Aaaarrrggghhhhhh!!!!!!” Screamed my son, setting off another thirty kids (and at least 10 Mums) across the departure lounge.

And it was then that I realised that the one place worse than being stuck in a plane with a disgruntled child is being stuck in a badly ventilated airport with hundreds of disgruntled children. My son went into melt down mode. The twins of the nice family next to us went berserk. Nearby two young brothers dressed as Power Rangers turned on each other while a beautiful three year old in a summer dress and pigtails let out a scream so blood curdling Janet Leigh would have been proud.

“Home?” I asked Becky.

“May as well, nothing’s happening here,” she replied.

“Nnnnnggggggg,” my son added, going a little purple in the face and doing a nice big present for his Daddy.

These guys ruined my holiday!


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