Transatlantic travel tales… or maybe tails?

No doubt sensing the nervous tension in the air, Orlando Cat chose the morning of my departure to the USA to do a runner. Her usual tour of the backyard takes about 20 minutes before wanting to come back in for food and ablutions. However she’d been gone for around one hour and I was just getting to the point of frantic panic looking down the back alley under cars, in neighbours’ yards, when she turned up at my front door. She never ever turns up there. I’m surprised she knew it was my house. So it appears that the trademan’s entrance around the back is no longer good enough for her Ladyship.

This unscheduled part of yesterday morning unsettled the strictly planned regime and I missed my intended bus and subsequently the airport train. Despite fearing the worst and filling my head with potentially woeful scenarios, it proved not too much of a problem as I got the next train saving me from an extra half hour hanging around Manchester Airport’s Departure Lounge. It also meant I checked in at the same time as the footballer Paulo Wanchope who was on my flight to New York and in front of me in the queue. The full extent of Orlando’s disruption became apparent when Security emptied my hand luggage and I realised that in the kerfuffle I’d left my reading glasses on the dining table. I had at least packed my prescription sunglasses. An initial period of cursing and calling myself all sorts of names for my stupidity was replaced with the resolve to live with it as there was nothing I could do, just forget it and move on. In the great scheme of things in the concept of what is going on around the world, it was no great disaster.

My flight was uneventful, I managed to catch a bit of sleep to add to the previous night’s five hours, and I saw nothing more of Mr Wanchope until Immigration as I assume he was enjoying the comforts of First or Business Class and not in with me and the rest of the proles. I wasn’t looking forward to five hours at Newark Liberty Airport having done it to death on my last trip, but this time I got the mild excitement of going on the monorail between two terminals. Having bought USA Today to read the latest on the Obama v McCain tussle, I settled down to kill some time with simply the largest veggieburger I’ve ever seen bought from the rare mirage of an airport wholefood cafe. I wasn’t sure whether to eat the burger or thrust a flag into the top and claim it as some remote British outpost. It was too tall to actually get into the mouth without breaking a jaw so I set about it with a knife and fork, although I might have been better equipped with an oxyacetylene blowlamp.

Now replete with carbs and feeling alive again I spent the time until my Jacksonville flight reading the paper, listening to Northern Soul on the iPod, and chuckling at “It cracks like breaking skin” a series of short stories set in Stoke-on-Trent written by fellow Stokie, the novellist and manbag carrying Stephen Foster. It was a godsend and helped the time to pass quickly. The chapter called “Bubblegum” was a particular masterpiece which had me laughing out loud resulting in quizzical glances from the person sat next to me.

Finally we boarded and thankfully the flight was actually early arriving in Jacksonville and Tina was there for an emotional meeting. Bags squeezed into her two seater sports car we headed back through the humid night to Jacksonville Beach. At 10pm it was still around a sticky 80′F something I’m going to have to get used to but will struggle with I’m sure. As I sit and type this it’s just around 9am on Sunday, and it’s already quite oppressive in here. Tina has gone to work and I might head out soon to get some “groceries” before it gets really hot. I’m cat-sitting as I can’t escape mad felines, Tina has just taken in a 5 week old kitten abandoned at a friend’s vets. Hadley the kitten is very cute, and has taken a shine to my feet, biting them mid-typing. How anyone could dump an animal beats me especially one as cute as Hadley. I’ll leave you with a photo from this morning, me bleary eyed and Hadley full of beans doing her impression of a parrot. See y’all later.

3 Responses to “Transatlantic travel tales… or maybe tails?”


  1. 1 Winger

    Dylan would be very keen on Hadley. For that fine mention, I’ll add you to the blogroll. * Low bow of sensational callowness. *

    Perhaps make Tina some Lobby with what you get from the grocery store? The vegetarian version would be like that Barley soup Heinz used to do: ideal for the weather conditions, duck…

  2. 2 pet sitter

    hey, nice article

  3. 3 Jacksonville Beach Homes

    So many ideas are triggered by your post. Thanks for the info.

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