dog-tired (Terry in her moose bed)
While I pulled an all-nighter, poor Berit had only a few hours’ kip after the exhaustion of yesterday. Driving to the airport (again) at 6 o’clock on a Sunday morning is nobody’s idea of fun times. But I’m glad I didn’t stick with the original plan of trying to make the 6pm Lufthansa flight from Hamburg to London, because the memorial wrapped up around 4:30 and I would’ve had half an hour to pack up my equipment (which was still in use until everyone left) and say rushed goodbyes and run to the other terminal to check in. An early morning flight, especially after yesterday, is far from ideal but the best option under the circumstances.
That said, I was barely conscious between Hamburg and London. The Lufthansa flight was maybe one-quarter full and I dozed on and off, coming to and wondering, “WHERE AM I???” then looking out the window at a blue sky and an airplane wing and realising I’m on a flight. It was the most bizarre feeling of disorientation.
Got to Heathrow and grabbed my checked bag, which I weighed in Hamburg and confirmed I’m indeed only half a kilo (just over one pound) away from Ryanair’s limit of 15kgs for flights booked before March 16. If I’d booked after March 16, my limit for a checked bag would be 20kgs. (Argh, I was off by four days!) Each kilo of excess is GBP5.50 or 8 euros.
I bought a few things for my nieces and nephew in Dannenberg, but Berit warned me it would be prohibitively expensive to post it, so I’ll send them from Toronto. In the meantime, I’ll have to juggle objects between the checked and carry on bags so I keep under the limit (10kgs for carry-on). After the Dinard-London fiasco two years ago where I paid 80 euros over and above the flight — which was 20 euros! — I was determined not to pay excess ever again. Once was enough. Ryanair flights are incredibly cheap, but only if you avoid their fees.
UK Passport Control officer: “What’s the purpose of your visit?”
Me: “A big Mother’s Day dinner at my friend’s mum’s house.”
UK Passport Control officer: “That’s a long way to come for dinner!”
That was, quite possibly, the only time I’ve ever heard a UK immigration officer crack a joke. (more…)