It's definitely cancelled

Travel, snow, travel, snow, travel, snow - that has been the theme of the Christmas and New Year period. I know I wasn't the only one affected but this is my blog, so my experience is what matters.

Christian was due to fly back to London last Wednesday, before heading back to Falmouth at the weekend. As the snow started coming down again in the UK in buckets we were glued to our computer screens trying to understand whether his flight was going to come or not.

My past experience of the Ryanair website is that it is notoriously slow to update so I switched to the BAA Stansted Airport website which seemed to be giving real time information. Christian's flight was due in at 2.15 and at about midday it was shown as cancelled on the BAA site. We decided to jump in the car and get to the airport to rearrange his flight before the majority of the passengers had arrived. Airport visit number one.

The lady at the information desk said that it wasn't cancelled. I said that it was. She went off to telephone Ryanair and came back with that classic French shrug. It is not yet cancelled she said so we couldn't yet transfer the flight - and with that she and all other staff disappeared.

What to do? Believing the cancellation imminent we chose to hang about and grab some lunch in the airport restaurant. It has never been a good experience and it was no different this time - rude staff and very average food. We regularly popped back downstairs to be met with no staff and nothing on the so called information screen.

Then out of the blue there was an announcement for Stansted passengers to check in their bags. I went to investigate and was told that the outbound flight had indeed been cancelled but that they were arranging for another plane. Okay. I dashed back home with Christian, collected his stuff, took him back to the airport, said our goodbyes and headed home. Airport visit number two.

Debrah and I were going to visit our mates at Chateau Rigaud for a few days on our way back to London and so had our own packing to do and closing up of 42rvh for the next six weeks or so. We had been home no longer than 15 minutes when Christian called - the flight had just been cancelled after getting everyone's hopes up and checking them all in through security - how cruel was that. I went back to collect a thoroughly morose and despondent Christian who seemed to think that the world had just ended. Airport visit number three.

Again the question - What to do? Rebook for Carcassonne and leave him behind, rebook for somewhere else and drop him off or take him with us to Bordeaux and then London? The thought of a twelve hour car journey seemed to tip Christian over the edge altogether - the most absurb overreaction I have ever seen - frankly I didn't relish the prospect if he was going to continue to be that miserable for the next three days - but with no idea when an airport might open again in the UK we had no option. Thankfully the stress (!) of it all had tired him out and he slept all the way to Bordeaux and awoke in a jollier mood.

On Thursday morning we explored all options in both France and the UK and found a flight from Bergerac to Southampton, which seemed to be open and operating. Goodbyes once more and I drove him to Bergerac with about an hour to spare before the flight and showed him where to check-in. As I left I hoped I wouldn't see him for another two months - when he's back from college - you know what I mean. Airport visit number four.

If we hadn't been able to get him away we would have driven back to London on the Friday, but the plane came and he went and arrived safely in Southampton and then London by train. And relax - it's always great to see Anna and Aib and we had a nice lunch out in a deserted St Emilion and talked about plans and dreams for the future whilst sampling a few local wines.

A breakfast time start was planned for Saturday. As I pulled back the curtains I looked out upon the glorious lawns of Chateau Rigaud covered in an inch of pristine white snow. Bugger. We ventured out but the roads were well slippy and 20 mph was the top speed attained - that combined with the forecasts from Northern France and the UK was enough for us to change our travel plans once again. We stayed another night.

With Debrah due back at work on Monday morning we could delay no longer. We left and 12 hours later we arrived - in London - hurrah. The roads were pretty much clear all the way and finally it all went to plan.

I think we might just stay put for a while.

Cuban Beats

A lot of the free concerts during the music festival can be a bit take it or leave it - 'local' bands (not made it national) or niche music (you have a fan base of 200 and it's rubbish) tend to dominate in my experience of the last three years - what a seasoned campaigner I am these days.

This evening I had a rare night off from client duties and decided to take in the much lauded cuban jazz band that was playing in the Place Carnot.

Wow! Were they good or what. They were fronted by a young pianist who never ever looked at the piano or what he was playing but never ever missed a note - he has played with the Buena Vista Social Club which says all you need to know about his musical ability. The rest of the band were equally fantastic and in true jazz fashion thay all had their moment in the spotlight - the drummer's arms were a blur and the saxophonist/flautist/clarinettist was just superb. You would have paid £50 to see them in London and $100 in New York and here we had them laid on for free - 'incroyable' as my neighbours might say.

The fact that it was a hot and sultry evening after a scorchio day just added to the ambience - everyone seemed ready to let their hair down in the relative cool of the night.

Unfortunately, the much anticipated falling out between Chris and Patrick has occurred and I seem to be slightly in the middle of it - Patrick moaning at me about Chris and vice versa. I said to them both to just thrash it out between themselves cos I ain't no counsellor or anybody's keeper and anyway I haven't got the time to bother with it. However, despite asking them both separately to join me for a drink and watch the band, we ended up on opposite sides of the square - pathetic really but not my problem.

Am I bothered? Do I look bothered? Nah