We boarded the plane at 6.30pm. The situation was made interesting by a party of about 25 from San Diego, mainly teenagers, who were going to Manchester for a “soccer” school. They were mainly wearing red, so it is reasonable to assume they have some association with that Newton Heath team which changed their name to something else (which escapes me for the moment). Once on board the teenagers were somewhat rowdy. One of the girls (probably supposed to be an adult) got close to being thrown off the plane for not sitting and wearing her seatbelt. Even so we had a long wait before takeoff. They just discovered that the battery was flat! You would have thought that this would have been picked up in routine maintenance, but no, they discovered it when they tried to start the engines. Perhaps I should have offered them some of mine, which I had in the computer bag, ready charged. Eventually a truck arrived with a large box on the back which presumably contained a new battery, about the size of one you would have in a car.

Once we moved away from the gate, at about 8.20pm, we all thought, OK, with a good tailwind (which was expected) we might only be half-an-hour late. But then we were further delayed in getting onto the runway. It must have been a particularly busy time as we had to join one of two queues to get onto the runway. So by the time we took off there was not a lot to see as the sun was setting, and as we were flying north east it would just get darker quicker. As we took off the teenagers burst into a bout of ironic applause. Delta has, I think, managed to lose some potential future customers through bad maintenance management.

The food was as you would expect. Hot chicken with pesto (i.e. with garlic), chicken with salad or vegetarian pasta (with garlic). It didn’t leave much choice, chicken salad it was. The children settled down to eat and then sleep. They had already travelled from San Diego, probably a 5 hour flight, plus layover, so in spite of youthful energies most were soon sleeping. Marianne spent most of the flight ready “The Hunger Games”. I read James Delingpole’s book “Watermelons”. This was a book I’d bought to read but someone else hijacked it at the start of the holiday. I managed to read two thirds by the time we landed.

About two hours from Manchester the eastern sky began to brighten. The picture at the top is not sunrise—it’s the Moon. I was too weary to work out how to get a better quality picture. The problem with flying east to west (apart from jet lag problems) is that you can’t really enjoy seeing the sun rise because of the limited view out of the side windows. The first two films were the same as on the way over, the Mangolia Hotel film with Judi Dench that Marianne said was an advert for Hinduism and Mysterious Island 2. I watched the latter and listened this time and found it just as absurdly funny as without the sound. Especially Michael Caine’s over the top retirement funding role!

About forty minutes from Manchester we crossed the Irish coast somewhere just north of Shannon and had a good view of the great river/lakes system (somewhere in this picture!). We passed over Dublin (I think it was Dun Laoghaire that I could see below) and then we began a slow decent towards Manchester. When they put the air brakes on and lose altitude it always feels to me as if the plane is about to fall out of the sky. We got a clear view of Holyhead and the Great Orme and then passed over northern Manchester before swinging round to land from the east. It felt as if there was a swerve to the left as the wheels touched down, arrival being only an hour late. But, as if to be punished for a late landing, we didn’t go to one of the gates but right to the end of Terminal 2 where we had to do things the old fashioned way. We walked down steps and onto buses and were then bussed half the length of the terminal building on the air side, through an arch and then half the distance back again. But we then had to climb the stairs and walk 200 yards to passport control. Having an e-passport this should have been easy. I put the photopage of my passport in the reader, stood in the right spot, had my photo taken and then the second gate opened. Marianne, however, had hers rejected and it had to be done manually. Thankfully there was no queue. Finding the luggage was easy and we went and waited for the long stay car park bus. While waiting I phoned Dad and wished him a happy 90th birthday.

The car was, thankfully, easy to find. For some reason there was a four pint carton of milk that must have been sitting there for some considerable time. It wasn’t left by us! We headed back to Weston Rhyn and, after a quick unpacking of the few necessary items, collapsed into bed.

I had about three and a half hours sleep and then dressed, packed again, and I set off alone for Carlisle. One of my aunts, Gwen, died last week and it’s her funeral tomorrow at Carlisle crematorium. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it all the way, but when I stopped for a break at Lancaster I knew I’d make it and so booked into this Premier Inn at the last junction on the M6. So in the last three weeks I have driven over 4,000 miles, most of it on the wrong side of the road!

So I think now it’s time for bed. There’s a note here on the desk that says “We recognise that during the current hot weather it can be difficult to sleep”. But it feels quite cold here!