BARBADOS

A Virgin Club Lounge Breakfast!

At the time of writing we are sitting in the departure lounge at Barbados airport waiting for our connecting flight to St. Vincent. Outside, under ever darkening skies, the rain is lashing down, indeed it is coming with such force that it is bouncing up from the tarmac. There is precious little chance of a take off any time soon.

The day had begun so well, apart from poor Charlotte getting in trouble on the the train down to Gatwick. She had a bought a ticket, in good faith, using her Young Person's Railcard, which had unfortunately expired. She has another one at home, but she has not been there over the last week to collect it. No matter, First Capital's officious ticket man was having none of it. What a pity he didn't realise the massive favour I had just done his company. There were no trains in or out of Harlington yeaterday (Sunday) I know that because our return from Scotland included a taxi ride from Leagrave where the Luton Airport special deposited us with no explanation or assistance. They put a helpful notice on the ticket machine to inform customers of this. That notice was still there this morning, leaving a fair few puzzled commuters staring at it, as no one thought to put a date on it. It simply read ' no trains in or out of this station today'. I ripped it down to the relief of said commuters who then caught their usual train. How many of them I wondered had turned tail and either gone home, got out the car or hired a taxi before I got there.

Still, the uselessness is not confined to England. Here in Barbados eliciting either help or information is like Russian Roulette. Some airport officials are helpful but others regard questions as an interference to their day, which looks as if it consisits of slouching up against one wall or another.

But I digress. Upon arrival at Gatwick we were whisked up to The Virgin Club Lounge for a fancy breakfast, a surprise from Charlotte, via one of her friends who works for Virgin. It was lovely. A bloody Mary or two and a full cooked but posh breakfast which Rustan would have for sure added to his food photo collection was most welcome as we waited for our flight to Barbados.

So here we sit, waiting for news of our short hop over to St. Vincent. The rain hammers down and the personel have to work a bit harder to entertain and inform the punters. I can smell the sweat from here.