Monday 23rd February 1998
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 If getting up on Sunday had been difficult, this
beat all comers. Our alarm clocks went off in sync at half past four in the morning,
waking us up at around the same time as Dejan and his team mates were getting in from a
night on the town.
Some of us arose pretty bright and breezy; not so Martin R, who had half a litre of
twelve-year-old single malt whisky inside him. Little did he know that that was only the
start of what for him was going to be a really bad day . . .
None of us were moving at speed, but we got our act together sufficiently to be out of the
door at 5:10, with a 5:40 bus to catch from a bus stop that was a mere ten-minute walk
away. Moreover, Igor had taken Andrew and Martin H into town the previous evening so that
we knew exactly where we were going. It all seemed pretty straightforward.
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Unfortunately, by the time we had arrived at the bus stop, realization had dawned on
Martin R that he had left our tournament certificate in his room, by which time it was too
late to go back and get it. We resolved to ask Miso and Igor if it would be possible to
get another, and pushed it to one side, as there was nothing else we could do.
The bus arrived a couple of minutes after 5.40, Keith handed over the money, and we
settled into our seats for the journey to the airport. We arrived shortly after six
o'clock to a completely deserted airport - we had beaten even the staff to it - but slowly
people in uniform filtered in, lights went on, hatches and kiosks opened and the airport
came to life.
Ed was amused to see that every check-in point was emblazoned with a sticker saying that
all firearms must be declared - not that they were prohibited -implying that it was OK to
take them on the plane as long as you declared them at check-in. Everyone else went into
low-power mode, and within a few minutes the entry hall looked like the scene of a
massacre, with Chesham bodies strewn all around.
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The Sandman swoops on Martin H |
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Sara files herself where she can't fall off |
Eventually, a check-in desk opened, and we formed a rather disorderly queue. It was then
that disaster really struck Martin R, as he discovered that he no longer
had his flight ticket with him. A million disclaimer forms and fourteen thousand Toler
later, Air Adria issued him with a replacement ticket, but it was a hard lesson learned.
At shortly before seven we filtered through into the departure lounge in time to catch our
7.20 flight. Many of us made use of the Duty Free facilities, and it was interesting to
see how many Western commodities were on sale that none of us had ever seen in the Duty
Free shop of a Western airport.
Just when we thought we were on the home stretch, a message flashed up on the
announcements board to say that our flight would be delayed by twenty minutes, and this
was followed fifteen minutes later by an announcement of a further fifteen-minute delay.
Our hearts sank. Fortunately, there were no further delays, and a smooth flight brought us
back to London at approximately 9.30 UK time. A bonus was excellent visibility as we
passed over Central London, and we were all craning our necks out of the windows to spot
well-known London landmarks. Sara was even able to identify the house of a friend of hers
in Victoria - the visibility really was that good.
We made our way to the arrivals hall without incident, and said our goodbyes, thereby
bringing our excellent adventure - and the Touring and Drinking Club's first outing - to a
close.
Join us in Bussum and Bologna!
