We’ve just got back from a very pleasant week away in Majorca.... nice hotel, lovely quiet resort, glorious weather (too hot at times) ... I’ve added a photo to distract you from the poor quality of the text but what I want to talk about is the flight over to Majorca...
It was an early start from Doncaster-Sheffield (aka Robin Hood) Airport (we arrived at something past three in the morning) and we were in the check-in queue just in front of the female equivalents of Little John and Friar Tuck, both clearly looking forward to a week of sun, food, sea, more food, sand and perhaps a snack to round off each evening.
As luck would have it, the family ended up one row in front of us and the bigger of the girls had a bit of a struggle squeezing into the aisle seat...
Actually that’s perhaps a bit unfair... it was only the excess flab that struggled and it ended up rolying and polying over and under the arm rest. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, but that didn’t stop me staring...
She tried (and bless her she tried ever so hard...) to fasten the seat belt. At one point, I was sorely tempted to whistle the theme to Mission Impossible and she eventually waved the white flag and asked for “an extension”. She was laughing loudly, as if her size was actually funny... which from one row back I suppose it was...
Anyway, we eventually took off.... although there was a disturbing moment when the Captain announced that the plane would not be able to cruise at the expected 36,000 feet owing to it being “overweight”; the mystery was easily solved courtesy of the pastie crumbs now sprinkled across the floor of the row in front. There was, according to the Captain, also a small chance of turbulence... if he’d known the girl on the end of the row had demolished the sausage and bean pastie, he would surely have reconsidered “small chance” to “guarantee”.
However, the defining moment of the two and a half hour flight came as we neared Palma Airport. The intercom crackled into life and the Captain said: “We need to bank right on the approach to the runway... would the lady on row 14, currently occupying seat C... and quite a bit of seat B as well... please lean to her right and give me at least a fighting chance...”
Okay, so that bit isn’t entirely true, but I think you get the picture.... We landed safely and went our separate ways; we headed for the coach that was taking us to our apartment... The girls? Well they were last seen frantically looking for Burger King...
All my own work... almost.