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Head south, young man
Sep. 7th, 2013 08:42 pmPeople moan about the depersonalization of air travel these days, and never stop criticizing the hassle off fflights in the modern world. But for me, when it comes to getting from my flat in London to my holiday flat in Nice, the flight is usually the least of my problems.
And so it proved again today. I had decided to fly from City Airport; theoretically this gave me an extra 90 minutes in bed, compared with a similar departure time at Gatwick. As it happens, I woke up early anyway.
I thought about watering the plants just before I left, at which point I heard the sound of rain -- fully contrary to the confident prediction of the Android weather app, which seems to be becoming even more inaccurate as the months roll on (it also predicted four days' sun in Nice, but the local weather orecaster said this evening that it would rain tomorrow).
The downside to my extra sleep was that I had no routine in place for my trip from Lewisham to City Airport.
What I should have done is find a cab number and telephoned it. I hardly ever use cabs these days. What I did do was get a DLR from Lewisham to Canary Wharf with the vague intention of getting a shorter cab ride from there.
It all went tits up. Couldn't find a cab. Got lost. It started pissing down with rain. Eventually found Westferry DLR, so I decided to buy a four-and-a-half-quid ticket from there to City Airport. Got to platform. No trains to City Airport. Walked for ages to East India Dock Road and found a cab going into town.
Overall it only took just over an hour to get to the airport, so I really hadn't been delayed that much. It just felt that way.
I had a coffee in the departure lounge and noticed a laptop sitting a few feet away from me. About five minutes later armed police and a security guy arrive. They ask if it belonged to anyone. Four girls at the table to my right stay silent. I say "It's been there for five minutes; no-one's come for it".
So they took it away.
Then, only then, one of the four girls sitting to my right, says to her friends "it's been there longer than five minutes". Standard, I thought to myself, but still fucking annoying. But this time I at least kept my mouth shut. I now know that there is a significant percentage of the population who are virtually incapable of saying something to a stranger (even the police) unless it is pulled out of their mouth like a reluctant bad tooth. But they are quite happy to say it to their own group afterwards, presumably as some compensation for their previous silence.
The Nice end problem had actually started the night before, when I had been told that the apartment would not be ready until 12.30pm, rather than the 11.30am that I had asked.
It quickly got worse. As I arrived in Nice I did my standard purchase of a weekly pass and a daily pass. The latter used to be valid on the 98 and 99s from the airport. But this time I got on the bus and was told that it was not valid. Now it's a 6 euro fare just for the single journey.
I was quickly accumulating useless transport tickets at an inordinate cost.
I then received a phone call that the apartment would not be ready until 2pm. So I decided to drop off my luggage at the agency's offices and have a walk. I found a shady spot, sat down and began reading my book.
Soon, phone rings again, now it's 4pm before the flat would be available. By now I was a bit pissed off (although, to be fair, they offered to pay for my lunch as compensation for the delay). I asked WTF was going on (previously I had been told that it was a cleaner problem) and was told that there had been a problem with the luggage of the people staying in the flat.
It eventually transpired that the people staying in the flat had been told (wrongly) that no-one was coming into the flat today. In those circumstances you can leave your luggage in the flat until 4pm. When the Rep found out the mistake, he tried to cover by telling me that there would be a couple of hours' delay, but when he tried to get hold of the previous renters, it turned out that they had gone to Monaco for the day and couldn't get back until 3pm even f they tried.
So, I went for a long walk, as far as 68 Rue de France, where I shall be staying next month for a real holiday, rather than this poor imitation. I had a lunch at my regular haunt on the same street.
The flat for next month is a long way down Rue de France, just past Blvd Gambetta. I think that Craig will like the area -- a couple of traditional French cafés/bars that we will probably be able to relax in.
After I, finally, got into the flat, and checked that the Internet worked (it does) I rushed to Monoprix, bought my provisions, came back, and then fell asleep for a couple of hours.
I woke up with a caffeine hangover. I've been getting these recently; I had never previously understood why anyone would give up caffeine, but I'm beginning to see why. I've reached the level where caffeine itself doesn't have the desired effect at the beginning (not until I've ingested rather more than is good for my heartbeat) but does have the undesired effect about 24 hours later as caffeine disappears from my bloodstream. Some cold turkey will be needed soon.
But, not this week.
And so it proved again today. I had decided to fly from City Airport; theoretically this gave me an extra 90 minutes in bed, compared with a similar departure time at Gatwick. As it happens, I woke up early anyway.
I thought about watering the plants just before I left, at which point I heard the sound of rain -- fully contrary to the confident prediction of the Android weather app, which seems to be becoming even more inaccurate as the months roll on (it also predicted four days' sun in Nice, but the local weather orecaster said this evening that it would rain tomorrow).
The downside to my extra sleep was that I had no routine in place for my trip from Lewisham to City Airport.
What I should have done is find a cab number and telephoned it. I hardly ever use cabs these days. What I did do was get a DLR from Lewisham to Canary Wharf with the vague intention of getting a shorter cab ride from there.
It all went tits up. Couldn't find a cab. Got lost. It started pissing down with rain. Eventually found Westferry DLR, so I decided to buy a four-and-a-half-quid ticket from there to City Airport. Got to platform. No trains to City Airport. Walked for ages to East India Dock Road and found a cab going into town.
Overall it only took just over an hour to get to the airport, so I really hadn't been delayed that much. It just felt that way.
I had a coffee in the departure lounge and noticed a laptop sitting a few feet away from me. About five minutes later armed police and a security guy arrive. They ask if it belonged to anyone. Four girls at the table to my right stay silent. I say "It's been there for five minutes; no-one's come for it".
So they took it away.
Then, only then, one of the four girls sitting to my right, says to her friends "it's been there longer than five minutes". Standard, I thought to myself, but still fucking annoying. But this time I at least kept my mouth shut. I now know that there is a significant percentage of the population who are virtually incapable of saying something to a stranger (even the police) unless it is pulled out of their mouth like a reluctant bad tooth. But they are quite happy to say it to their own group afterwards, presumably as some compensation for their previous silence.
The Nice end problem had actually started the night before, when I had been told that the apartment would not be ready until 12.30pm, rather than the 11.30am that I had asked.
It quickly got worse. As I arrived in Nice I did my standard purchase of a weekly pass and a daily pass. The latter used to be valid on the 98 and 99s from the airport. But this time I got on the bus and was told that it was not valid. Now it's a 6 euro fare just for the single journey.
I was quickly accumulating useless transport tickets at an inordinate cost.
I then received a phone call that the apartment would not be ready until 2pm. So I decided to drop off my luggage at the agency's offices and have a walk. I found a shady spot, sat down and began reading my book.
Soon, phone rings again, now it's 4pm before the flat would be available. By now I was a bit pissed off (although, to be fair, they offered to pay for my lunch as compensation for the delay). I asked WTF was going on (previously I had been told that it was a cleaner problem) and was told that there had been a problem with the luggage of the people staying in the flat.
It eventually transpired that the people staying in the flat had been told (wrongly) that no-one was coming into the flat today. In those circumstances you can leave your luggage in the flat until 4pm. When the Rep found out the mistake, he tried to cover by telling me that there would be a couple of hours' delay, but when he tried to get hold of the previous renters, it turned out that they had gone to Monaco for the day and couldn't get back until 3pm even f they tried.
So, I went for a long walk, as far as 68 Rue de France, where I shall be staying next month for a real holiday, rather than this poor imitation. I had a lunch at my regular haunt on the same street.
The flat for next month is a long way down Rue de France, just past Blvd Gambetta. I think that Craig will like the area -- a couple of traditional French cafés/bars that we will probably be able to relax in.
After I, finally, got into the flat, and checked that the Internet worked (it does) I rushed to Monoprix, bought my provisions, came back, and then fell asleep for a couple of hours.
I woke up with a caffeine hangover. I've been getting these recently; I had never previously understood why anyone would give up caffeine, but I'm beginning to see why. I've reached the level where caffeine itself doesn't have the desired effect at the beginning (not until I've ingested rather more than is good for my heartbeat) but does have the undesired effect about 24 hours later as caffeine disappears from my bloodstream. Some cold turkey will be needed soon.
But, not this week.
