“Can I stay a bit longer?”

I believe we would have got seriously wrecked that evening if it hadn’t been a Wednesday!

Received a mail from Easyjet today:

Dear Mr Brighty,

Thank you for contacting us.

I would like to sincerely apologize for the long delay in responding to your e-mail. As we are receiving high volume of e-mails because of the disruption, therefore we are unable to answer your queries on time. However, I can assure you that this is not of our usual standard.

I would also like to sincerely apologise for the inconvenience that the disruption to your flight may have caused you.

I can confirm that a payment of CHF ###, as refund of your cancelled flight and , has already been processed to the original method of payment. This will be made to the credit card used in your original booking within 5-10 working days.

I am happy to confirm a refund of £### to cover the cost of your hotel accommodation. This will be returned to the card used to make your easyJet reservation within 15-20 working days due to heavy backlog because of weather disruptions.

There IS hope after all!

And now let’s see what happens to our second claim…

…that I don’t live in London.

Because I would be spending ENORMOUS amounts of time in Foyle’s Bookshop.

Foyle’s is like nothing you have every seen: while the ground floor sports your usual novels and non-fictions, the rest of the building is full of treasures.

You wouldn’t believe that there are more than a couple of books on mosquitos; there are, I saw them. If you happen to browse the aviation section, you won’t only find your usual stuff about air disasters and such, but books on airports, runways, plane manufacturors, war missions, pilot biographies… I am sure that I could discover at least another 17 passionate hobbies just by being let loose in Foyles for an afternoon.

But I only had 20 minutes.

So I purchased the couple of things I had been looking for, plus a couple of things I stumbeled upon and went back to rescue the girls from the evil reaches of cut price clothing.

Mayb it’s best, indeed!

DBW and I have been contemplating making a weekend break to Dublin for a while, now.

So, on our way back from the Bloggy Friday, when she reminded me that Aer Lingus‘s “special offers” would expire last night at 24:00 and that we would absolutely have to book our flights before that deadline if we wished to stand a chance to save a couple of cents, my stomach started cringing, the saliva in my throat was instantly lyophilized before I uttered the fatal words that had been haunting my soul ever since she had mentioned the idea:

Remember when we traveled to Brugges last year? And you insisted we fly separately? So that we would reduce the chance of reducing the kids to orphans by 50%? If you (or I) crash? With the plane? And…like…die?

There was silence in the car.

Deep silence.

Complete with a deadly look which could only suggest that I would be immediately better off if I could instantly organize a one-way teleport to the nether world.

Followed by a typical woman-like

We’re not going to Dublin. Or Marrakech.

More deep silence ensued…

To which I countered with a feeble

Blablabla-airline safety records-blabla-fatal crashes-blabla-driving along-blabla-maniacs on the road-blabla-when is the last time we actually had a fatal crash-blabla-see: told you-blabla.

DBW must REALLY need a break: Dublin is booked, Marrakech: pending!