Before we go.

Couldn't resist it, had to tell you about Sophie's tribulation that is unfolding as I write and the wonderful little poem she wrote about it.

The plan was that Sophie was to return to the UK from her trip to Spain on Tuesday which would give her enough time to pack for a departure to Namibia on Thursday, that's tomorrow.

She and Sonia her grandmother, whom she is travelling with, arrived at the airport to find that French air traffic controllers were on strike.

The BA Blues

(A silly strike-inspired airport poem by me)

 

We're stuck at the airport, what a pain 

The French are striking - yet again 

Will there be another plane?,

I've got the BA blues .

 

Its a bit of a cliché, and that's French too

The staff have all got déjà-vu

We're waiting in an endless queue, we've got the BA blues. 

 

And just to make it more like hell,

They've put us in an (O)h!tel

All Brits suppress the urge to yell - "We've got the BA blues".

 

Just one thing to redeem this fate,

The buffet's staying open late,

Is it meat or acetate? - a plate of BA blues. 

 

The bus will pick us up at 9 

Three minutes, we'll be back in line 

To board the plane and (please God) end - this case of BA blues.