I went home for Christmas, and as
anyone who follows me on Twitter knows as you received a daily countdown for
the three weeks prior to it, I was super excited to get back into my own bed,
with my own walls in my family home.
My mum was instructed to buy the new
fiery Irn-Bru (which is strange and sort of gross but at the same time you want
to drink a little bit more. And it lives
up to its name with a fiery kick at the back of your throat.), and that we were
definitely going to McDonalds on the way home from the airport, which we did at
just after half past eleven. But I’m
jumping ahead of myself.
The week previous to my going home
was really strange because this was a huge thing looming. I wasn’t even thinking about what would
happen when I got home just that the Friday would be a huge journey starting at
7 am (my time) and ending at just after midnight in the UK. Over 18 hours of travelling, two cars, three
trains (including the airport one) and two planes. And all of this on not that much sleep. So I
loaded up my iPod with all the Christmas episodes of the podcasts I listen to
and set off. The taxi driver arrived on
time and got me to the station in plenty of time to get my train. Trains in Spain are terrifying, I’m still not
used to the fact that they have stairs and that you have about 30 seconds to
jump on with all your stuff, luckily this time I was carrying a lot less
weight, my bag only weighed 12.5kg…I have never had that little stuff with me…
On the train I was sitting playing
around with my laptop and I was sitting in the seat in front of the one where I
was supposed to be since there was someone in mine. This isn’t normally a problem, unless two
really old Spaniards get on the train and start shouting at you to move. Which of course I did but she spent the next
hour talking to her husband about me and calling me all sorts of names…must
have been the most exciting thing to happen to her in a while…I however, was
laughing about this on Twitter since I have mobile internet. And really what did it matter, she was just a
cranky old lady and I was off home.
3 and a half hours later I arrived
in Atocha train station where I was to catch my second train to the airport. It’s a great thing that they have a direct
train line to T4 of the airport, it’s so easy to use. The only problem is that not all the trains
go all the way there and they are every half hour, this is what contributed to
my problems on the way back. So I had a
small wait and then I was off to the airport.
I had time to kill in the airport
before I could check in so I went and got some food. I sort of cheated and went to the McDonalds
there but really it is the cheapest option.
It was crammed full of people, due to the fact that everyone was flying
either home or on holiday for Christmas.
I sat and ate my meal, a McPollo meal.
Just before I left to go and get all checked in, as I was putting my
jacket into my bag, some little Frenchman tried to steal my spot. “Eh what do you think yer doin’ mate?”
(except in Spanish) “I’m sitting here”.
He gave me a dirty look, and then some Welsh woman tried the same
thing. I deliberately sat for another
few minutes, just to annoy them and then went and checked in. Message here – don’t mess with me when I’m a
tad stressed, else you’ll face the wrath of Mary Ann.
At the check-in the woman started to
talk to me in English, but I responded in Spanish automatically. She started laughing at the fact that I was
doing this but I just said that I was used to doing that now. I got my window seats on both flights and
that was that. I went through the security
and down to catch the airport transfer train between T4 and T4S. I only had one thing that I had to do and
that was to find a souvenir for my dad.
My mum, sister and Aunty Mary all got their Turron duro but I hadn’t
found anything for my dad. I found a cup
with a bullfighter on it, and thought that he’d quite like that, he did. Sorted.
Then it was time to board. Then to
wait…for nearly an hour…as they removed one passenger and his luggage from the
flight…
The flight was quite funny as a lot
of the families on the flight were bilingual.
The mothers were Spanish and the dads were English speaking. Some of the children were babbling along in
Spanish and the parents would reply in English.
There was one annoying baby, like usual, and the mother kept trying to
sing it into quiet but failed.
Ironically she was singing Silent Night.
I got to London with around an hour to transfer to the other terminal…I
was starting to freak out…I mean I have flown with BA and Iberia (their
partner) for all of these flights and every single one has been delayed. Luckily for the fact that I was squeezed for
time the flight to Glasgow was also delayed.
Landing in London at night,
especially at Christmas is something special.
All those lights stretching out for miles. All the colours and the sheer scale of London
and the recognition of the famous landmarks, it was wonderful.
Eventually I got to Glasgow. On a plane full of Glaswegians all chattering
away in the accent that I have missed.
Landed at Glasgow and on the way from the plane to the baggage claim
were all the vending machines filled with Irn-Bru…oh yes, I was back in my
country.
Got out to the area where the people
wait and there they were. My
family. I gave the trolley to my dad and
then Katherine and I walked briskly back to the car. It was as if I’d never left.
We drove out to Coatbridge for the
McDonalds and then home. I got to open
my presents from my secret Santa and from one of my friends. And I gave my presents to my family. It was now about one in the morning and all I
wanted to do was to go to bed. But I
wasn’t allowed. Katherine insisted that
we watch the Nightmare Before Christmas, so we did and I fell asleep during
it. It was good to be home.
