At LAST!!!!, Mel came home from Naples. At last. I’d reached the point where I could barely cram another sock in the laundry basket. Was almost on the verge of having to buy a second basket! Anyway, she’s back from Naples. Having left me, without a carer, the WHOOOOOLE weekend. As she and the twin went romping round Pompei, cruising round Capri and living the dolce vita, but literally. Cos iss Italian, innit.

So a fab weekend. Marred only by… the most horrendous travel travails EVER!!!

There’s a stark warning here for all potential travellers who are unaware of the post-Brexit rules for entering Europe. You need one full year on your passport. BUT, it is NOT from the expiry date on your passport. Huh? No, that’s too ‘simple’, too ‘easy’, too ‘British’. You have to add 10 years to the DATE OF ISSUE of the passport and you need one clear year til that date. And passports are always issued a few months before the 10 years start.

Hence as the twins were actually going through the departure gate to board, ‘the other twin’ was pulled up. Although she had 14 months til the ‘expiry date’, she was 5 days short of the ‘issue plus ten years’ date and they wouldn’t let her on. A red card.

They returned from Gatwick. We (younger daughter is a total ‘ace’ at all things travel, and, it must be said; not much else) booked a flight with BA in the afternoon, using air miles, so just 25 quid for both tickets, and importantly, using a Canadian passport. Which the twins, born many, many, many years ago in Vancouver, both have. Born in the Gold Rush. Or thereabouts. So, back to Heathrow, this time, just f’ra change, and off they flew to Naples.

That wasn’t so hard, was it?

Yesterday they arrived at the airport to return to be told of ‘delays’. Hours. And hours. Again, we tried to get onto a BA flight which was leaving the same time as their original one, but on time, and seats were available, on air miles again, but this time for £1, but… but… but… it kept giving an error message. Which, after hanging on for half an hour to speak to someone, I learned was because you can only book flights until 3 hours before departure. And it was only 2. So they waited. And waited. EasyJet provided their usual, generous ‘compensation package’ of a visit to the airport restaurant for their lovely “all you can eat, for 4 Euros” special. It almost covered a bottle of water.

Mel arrived home at 3.30 this morning. Without a door key. Because none of this was in the ‘original plan’. But as we all know: man plans, airports laugh.

Happy Return

A xxxx