Snakes on a plane by Rhianon

My God if you’d told me the flight was going to be like that, I would have run screaming to the nearest Eurotunnel: two hours holed up on a fog-bound flight from Stanstead with forty German football fans all high on Becks and winning that friendly against England. With a gorgeous, exhausted six-month-old baby.

To their credit, the Ryanair ladies did not actually sell them more beer, but they still went through every single chant in the book. By golly, could they sing. The baby took it all in his stride, challenging the fans in the seats behind us to a lengthy raspberry match (which he won, by a long chalk), but there’s only so much you can ask of a bubbling at that time of night. And cry he did.

What’s weird about the airport the other side is that it takes about as long to get past the guy with the passports as it does to take the damned flight from London. We eventually escaped at midnight, having boarded the plane at 7.30pm for a 50 minute flight. Ugh. And baby was STILL AWAKE! Can you credit that?!

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