TonyHancock
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This year promises less travel, although Griselda informs me I will be visiting Blighty on at least five occasions, presumably via some far off place in Norway again.. Thanks to Griselda’s incompetence I am, alas, unable to make my customary January trip to China. She failed to realize that reapplication for my APEC card, whatever that is, should have been made six months ago. :shock:
The prospect of queuing up with everyone else at Shanghai immigration was not something I wanted to face……ever. I quizzed Griselda about the status of my APEC card on a daily basis but as usual she was completely unprepared and unable to provide a satisfactory response. :?:
I was feeling deflated and lacked a certain “je ne sais quoi”. Usually my brilliance shone through, but I was decidedly lacklustre. Not even a Mint Julip (3 oz. of ice cold Coates Plymouth gin waved in the general direction of Lexington, Kentucky) could cheer me up.”
After last year’s debacle Griselda had at least waited a few days into the New Year before regaling me with the travel plans she had organized, and I use that word loosely, for me. Quite frankly I had little interest as she rambled on and on about Stavanger, Heathrow and Basel. My curiosity was only slightly piqued at the mention of San Diego.
“Ms Pugh I can’t face South America again, I am still recovering from the Formule 1 incident in Belo Horizonte four years ago” Perhaps it was five years ago I couldn’t actually remember.
“Don’t be silly Mr Hancock, San Diego is in The United States of America” Griselda was at her condescending best….or worst depending which side of the fence you sit.
From my experience places in North America sounded like New York, Chicago, Cincinnati, Pittsburgh (although that sounded a bit German) or Boston. Anything with a Las or San or for that matter El in it sounded South American or Mexican although I wasn’t quite sure what the difference between those two was.
“San Diego is in the South West of the USA” Griselda added, only slightly less than helpfully.
“I say Griselda, could you pass me The Times Atlas of the World please, the 1895 edition not the one with all of those new fangled countries I don’t recognize?” I asked firmly.
It was just as I thought; San Diego was less than an inch from the border with Mexico and by my reckoning that made it practically in Mexico. I wondered whether that Trump chap would get a decent wall built before my April visit. He sounded just the type of chap to sort The United States out, although I wasn’t too sure about the need to clear out the lobbyists in Washington. I rather fancied one of those lobbyist jobs.
I prepared myself a Manhattan (3 oz. of ice cold Coates Plymouth gin waved in the general direction of New York) in another attempt to extract myself from the fog of melancholy that enveloped me.
I fear travel has finally done for my sanity. Those wonderful days when travel was luxurious and filled with glamour had long gone and I had been dragged into a world of noise, confusion, flip flops and singlets. Sadly I will now always associate travel from Australia with a day out at Skegness.
There was a time when a visit to the Qantas first class Lounge in Sydney or Melbourne generated an almost child like anticipation. I wondered if familiarity had bred contempt or whether it was just that the lounges were overcrowded with Qantas Platinum types. [-]Even that Joyce chapped legged it sharpish when faced with the choice of staying to provide support to stranded Qantas Platinum types or being pilloried in the media for abandoning them.[/-] I give credit to that Joyce fellow who manfully remained in Dubai with the baying mob of Qantas Platinums when he could have been away on the very next Emirates flight. (I would have been gone like a shot!!!)
The last trip had really brought the modern awfulness of travel home to me. I had been forced to run at Hong Kong airport in order not to miss a flight. This was what my life had come to. I did not even have time for a White Russian (3 oz of ice cold Coates Plymouth gin waved in the general direction of St Petersburg)
I mixed myself a Singapore Sling (3 oz. of ice cold Coates Plymouth gin waved in the general direction of Singapore) in a further attempt to lift the gloom, although I was conscious that mixing drinks would lead to no good.
Surely I could find something to look forward to in 2017? I think the New Years Honours List had started me down a rocky road. Apparently someone named “Posh Spice” had received an honour. I presume he is a Peterborough United football player of Asian descent with a name like that. I thought I might be in with a shout this year given my patronage of the British Gin industry but alas I have missed out once again.
So I am a world weary, disillusioned and reluctant traveller as I prepare to bore you with tales of the same old routes and problems Griselda sets before me.
TTFN
The prospect of queuing up with everyone else at Shanghai immigration was not something I wanted to face……ever. I quizzed Griselda about the status of my APEC card on a daily basis but as usual she was completely unprepared and unable to provide a satisfactory response. :?:
I was feeling deflated and lacked a certain “je ne sais quoi”. Usually my brilliance shone through, but I was decidedly lacklustre. Not even a Mint Julip (3 oz. of ice cold Coates Plymouth gin waved in the general direction of Lexington, Kentucky) could cheer me up.”
After last year’s debacle Griselda had at least waited a few days into the New Year before regaling me with the travel plans she had organized, and I use that word loosely, for me. Quite frankly I had little interest as she rambled on and on about Stavanger, Heathrow and Basel. My curiosity was only slightly piqued at the mention of San Diego.
“Ms Pugh I can’t face South America again, I am still recovering from the Formule 1 incident in Belo Horizonte four years ago” Perhaps it was five years ago I couldn’t actually remember.
“Don’t be silly Mr Hancock, San Diego is in The United States of America” Griselda was at her condescending best….or worst depending which side of the fence you sit.
From my experience places in North America sounded like New York, Chicago, Cincinnati, Pittsburgh (although that sounded a bit German) or Boston. Anything with a Las or San or for that matter El in it sounded South American or Mexican although I wasn’t quite sure what the difference between those two was.
“San Diego is in the South West of the USA” Griselda added, only slightly less than helpfully.
“I say Griselda, could you pass me The Times Atlas of the World please, the 1895 edition not the one with all of those new fangled countries I don’t recognize?” I asked firmly.
It was just as I thought; San Diego was less than an inch from the border with Mexico and by my reckoning that made it practically in Mexico. I wondered whether that Trump chap would get a decent wall built before my April visit. He sounded just the type of chap to sort The United States out, although I wasn’t too sure about the need to clear out the lobbyists in Washington. I rather fancied one of those lobbyist jobs.
I prepared myself a Manhattan (3 oz. of ice cold Coates Plymouth gin waved in the general direction of New York) in another attempt to extract myself from the fog of melancholy that enveloped me.
I fear travel has finally done for my sanity. Those wonderful days when travel was luxurious and filled with glamour had long gone and I had been dragged into a world of noise, confusion, flip flops and singlets. Sadly I will now always associate travel from Australia with a day out at Skegness.
There was a time when a visit to the Qantas first class Lounge in Sydney or Melbourne generated an almost child like anticipation. I wondered if familiarity had bred contempt or whether it was just that the lounges were overcrowded with Qantas Platinum types. [-]Even that Joyce chapped legged it sharpish when faced with the choice of staying to provide support to stranded Qantas Platinum types or being pilloried in the media for abandoning them.[/-] I give credit to that Joyce fellow who manfully remained in Dubai with the baying mob of Qantas Platinums when he could have been away on the very next Emirates flight. (I would have been gone like a shot!!!)
The last trip had really brought the modern awfulness of travel home to me. I had been forced to run at Hong Kong airport in order not to miss a flight. This was what my life had come to. I did not even have time for a White Russian (3 oz of ice cold Coates Plymouth gin waved in the general direction of St Petersburg)
I mixed myself a Singapore Sling (3 oz. of ice cold Coates Plymouth gin waved in the general direction of Singapore) in a further attempt to lift the gloom, although I was conscious that mixing drinks would lead to no good.
Surely I could find something to look forward to in 2017? I think the New Years Honours List had started me down a rocky road. Apparently someone named “Posh Spice” had received an honour. I presume he is a Peterborough United football player of Asian descent with a name like that. I thought I might be in with a shout this year given my patronage of the British Gin industry but alas I have missed out once again.
So I am a world weary, disillusioned and reluctant traveller as I prepare to bore you with tales of the same old routes and problems Griselda sets before me.
TTFN
:shock:
