Formula 1 and other stuff

In all my travels I’ve only ever been separated from my suitcase once. I’d been upgraded, too. It was like someone was telling me I wasn’t meant to turn left.

As my EasyJet flight pushed back from the stand – only 40 mins late – at Nice airport today, I heard someone on the row behind say, “Look, the bloke just drove off and left those bags on the ground.”

I pulled my nose out of my book and looked out. Hmm. One of them appeared to be mine…

After finally getting to the front of a passport queue that seemed to start in Cornwall (never mind, there’s a couple more years to sort Gatwick out before the Olympics roll around), I arrived without optimism in the baggage hall. Miraculously, there was my case.

So, a happy ending for me – but let’s raise a glass tonight for those poor folk whose dirty laundry is still sitting on the Tarmac…