My BA flight has departed from Budapest en route to London Heathrow Terminal 3 and the cabin service has just started. The flight is empty from row 20 backwards so I'm in seat 20A and I have nobody sitting in my row. Luxury! I've been in Hungary since Tuesday, staying at the Sofitel Hotel in the centre of Budapest. It was a large and roomy corporate hotel with decent rooms and I loved it, although the plug in my bathroom sink was jammed so I had to prise it out and keep it out.
Dangerous tea bags?
I'm weighing up what to eat and drink for when the cabin crew arrive. I've thought about tea, but they've got Tea Pigs, which is supposed to be 'premium'. However, there are news reports claiming that teabags, like those used by the Tea Pigs people, contain microplastics. Apparently, they're not harmful, but if you believe that, you'll believe anything, so I might have sparkling mineral water instead. The problem with not drinking alcohol is that you're limited to shit - or non-alcohol beer, which amounts to the same thing. Today, sitting in a restaurant in Budapest, I realised how crap non-alcohol beer can be and resolved not to order it again. Not that they have any on board this BA875 flight. They do have peppermint tea and I'd like one, but I'm put off by those micro-plastics, so it's going to have to be mineral water. Despite the fact that there's only a few people on the plane, it still seems to be taking an age to be served, but I can wait, I had a late breakfast around 0930hrs and then lunch around 1400hrs and I'm not particularly hungry, although I might have a Kit Kat.
The weather in Budapest has been wonderful today - very hot, something like 23 degrees and sunny - tee shirt weather. Back home in the UK, it's raining and horrible, just like you might expect. It's an awful country, especially with Boris Johnson in Number 10. We need a general election. I won't say anymore about politics because it's boring, fucking boring.
We're almost in October. Soon the clocks will go back and it's winter and, of course, Christmas! Mum will be 90 in November. I'm actually lost for words, I just want some mineral water and a Kit Kat, but the cabin crew are taking their time.
It was pleasant wandering around Budapest and I know that whenever the city is mentioned somebody always brings up the fact that it's two cities: Buda and Pest. My walk took me into Buda, which is a little sleepier than Pest where I was staying. I visited the odd gift shop, bought a fridge magnet and that was about it. Had I not had a late breakfast, I might have sat in one of the coffee shops, I might have enjoyed a cookie or a cake, but I didn't need food. I do now, though!
Guilt-free?
Come on, Ladies! I'm hungry! I felt like yelling this, but decided not to. Stop yabbering to the other passengers and come and serve me instead! In all honesty, I'm not that bothered. I can wait, but at this rate I won't get a drink until we arrive in boring old London. A Kit Kat and a mineral water, that's what I need and I need it now, not next week. Ah! Here they come. I'd better stop writing for a while and secure my order - here goes, back in a second.
I've ordered a can of Loveau, a sparkling, flavoured mineral water with nothing nasty in it, or so they say. The drink is claimed to be all-natural, zero-calorie and sugar-free and 'bursting with juicy berry flavour'. Well, it's alright, but there's an old woman on board who simply won't stop coughing and it's a little off-putting. I hope her germs don't circulate through the cabin and infect me! She's making a right old noise and putting me off my food. Shut up!
Outside, it's pretty hazy, but sunny. There's one hour and thirty minutes to go and we're due to arrive in London at 1905hrs. We are currently flying over Germany, not a million miles from Nurnberg and we're cruising at 38,000 feet. There are 568 miles until we reach our destination. I'm still enjoying my 'guilt-free pleasure' and I think that's my problem at the moment, everything in my life is guilt-free. I don't drink or smoke, I don't do anything wrong and it's plain boring. I just don't wake up with a headache, that's all. That woman is still coughing.
Culture vultures
I tell you what I like about being in Europe - and I don't mean politically, I mean physically - and that is the fact that they are much more cultured that us Brits. As I was about to walk across the so-called Chain Bridge, there was a woman handing out leaflets for classical concerts at Saint Stephen's Basilica. The programme included Bach, Handel, Saint-Saens, Vivaldi, Purcell, Schubert, Sibeliius and Mozart and it also printed their dates of birth and death. JS Bach was 92 when he died, according to the leaflet. I would have loved to attend that concert, but here I am halfway to London Heathrow, and besides, it's not until Sunday (29th September) when I'll be at home listening to the rain.
The skies outside have cleared and now I can see fluffy clouds below me, some way below me, and they are bathed in sunshine, a bit like a huge, white duvet not dissimilar to the one in my hotel room back in Budapest.
It's so nice not having anybody sitting in my row. It means I can spread out a bit. Who needs business class? The plane is virtually empty. It must have something to do with the planned strike, which was called off. I'm guessing that nobody booked the flight because they thought it would be cancelled. But the strike was called off and hey presto! Virtually no other passengers.
There is just over an hour until we land and the cloud below us is clearing and the sun still shines. We seem to be over Luxembourg and approaching the Netherlands, although, more precisely, we're kind of north west of Frankfurt; it's hard to know exactly from the little map on the screen hanging from above the seats in front of me.
We are flying on an A320 Airbus. I've been on holiday to the USA recently and flew on an A340. The 320 has two rows of three seats whereas the Virgin A340 I flew on to New York (and later back from Washington DC) had a row of two seats, a central row of four seats and another row of two seats.
I don't mind flying
Do I like flying? Yes and no. In some way not particularly, but in others it's the most exciting part of most trips aboard. I get by, I suppose. It's nice when the flight is smooth and the plane is empty, like now, but this is rare. I remember once flying home from Paris and there was only five of us on the flight. Fantastic! It would be good to fly across the Atlantic in an empty plane, but I doubt that will ever happen.
Outside the cloud below us has reappeared, but the sun is still shining and we are flying towards it. We appear to be flying between Aachen and Dortmund and have 55 minutes left in the air. Our descent will start within the next 20 minutes and I'm amazed at how time seems to fly when I write long hand in notebook like now. Writing, however, needs space and, hold on, the engines have slowed and I'd imagine that means the descent has begun. The cloud below has thinned again. What was I saying? Oh yes, oh, hold on again, I can see land below! Buildings and roads, but it can't be the UK, not yet. I'd imagine it's Germany or the Netherlands. Anyway, I was talking about writing. For me it's a solitary thing so when writing on a plane it helps to have nobody sitting next to me trying to see what I'm writing.
The cloud below seems closer and I can see that Norwich and London have appeared on the map. We're over Eindhoven and there's 253 miles to go.
The Reckoning
A white-haired gentleman across from me is (or was) reading a John Grisham novel and just because those engines slowed earlier doesn't mean we have started our descent, we haven't. The plane is still flying at 38,000 feet. Perhaps the cloud is getting thicker and higher as we approach the UK? The sun is still shining too, but then it always is once you get above the clouds, unless it's night time. I hate night flights as I like to see what's going on; there's nothing worse than turbulence when you can't see what's happening outside.
The captain has just said we're about to start our descent and are currently over Amsterdam. Looks as if we will be circling around the airport before we land, but by all accounts it might be relatively clear skies as those sitting on the right hand side of the plane (the man with the John Grisham novel and the woman who keeps coughing) will get good views of the City of London as we come into the land, according to the captain. Lucky them!
I can see the sea below us and I assume we are leaving behind the Dutch coast and flying across the North Sea. I can see a clear coast line and I think sandy beaches too. The cloud cover seems relatively thin. We are 37 minutes from our destination.
Writing on a lap top is fine, but you can't beat a notepad and pen, it's so relaxing.
The map shows the plane over the North Sea and heading towards Dover, there's 32 minutes to go. Soon those seat belt signs will go on and I won't be able to use the tray on which I am resting my notebook. I bought the notebook in Tokyo, just the for record.
Why is it that I prefer being on the left hand side of the plane? I'd rather be in seat 20A than seat 20F. And in truth, there's no answer to the question. You get what you're given. Actually, you can choose your seats.
Looking down on a rough sea
The sea below looks a little choppy. I can make out the white horses, which seem frozen in time at this height. I guess there will be less cloud because of the breezy conditions, not sure. We are definitely descending as my ears are going and I have to swallow to hear properly. There's around 25 minutes to go but there is still sea below us as we head towards Essex at 26,500 feet and 95 miles left to go. Now, just a few words later, we're at 23,000 feet and there's 23 minutes left of the flight. The plane has just gone through a bit of cloud, it shook slightly, but is through the other side, and below I can see the UK coastline. We are now over land and there are 71 miles left to fly. More UK coastline below us and I think it's the Thames Estuary as we now appear to be following a river. There's a building down there, close to the water and there are flashing lights, some kind of amusement park or fairground perhaps? Now there are patchwork fields and clusters of housing and we're still following the river. I can see lights here and there because it's not fully dark yet. More houses, more patchwork fields and I think we're in some kind of holding pattern with 21 minutes to go. Through the cloud, a higher density of housing, motorways, traffic, infrastructure.
The John Grisham novel the white-haired man across the aisle from me was reading was The Reckoning.
We are banking left and the wing is brushing the cloud. Lights below twinkle.
"Cabin crew, thanks very much. Ten minutes to landing," says the captain.
We are going through cloud and it got a little bumpy. There's more to come and I'm now writing on my lap. Not my laptop, my lap. Big clumps of cloud. I hope we don't have to go round again. We're banking to the right and the city below is twinkling like the stars.
"Cabin crew, seats for landing," the captain commands.
We are flying over the Thames. There are high rise buildings, streets and roads, a floodlit football pitch. We've banked right and have levelled out. A park, another football pitch, the Thames again, we're flying parallel to the river, I can see traffic and yet another football pitch, in fact, three of them. This must be the final approach. The bunkers of a golf course are just about visible in the approaching twilight and still the river is there. The undercarriage is down, flaps are down too, buses and houses, front and back gardens, a tube train, road markings, a busy roundabout, more houses, car parks, airport buildings, the runway, we're down and the engines have been thrown into reverse to slow us down.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Heathrow Terminal Three," says a member of the cabin crew.
We're home!
We parked up at the jetty around 1922hrs and that woman with the cough who, incidentally, is sitting next to the white-haired man who was reading the John Grisham novel, is still coughing.
I sailed through immigration, bowled cockily into the baggage reclaim area, carousel number 8, picked up my case, waltzed through customs and headed out of the airport.
Further reading...
For more notes from flights, click here. There's another one here. And how about this one from a recent flight home from New York, click here! There's also this rant from a flight to San Antonio, click here. I also got busy on a flight from Delhi to London, click here.
Dangerous tea bags?
I'm weighing up what to eat and drink for when the cabin crew arrive. I've thought about tea, but they've got Tea Pigs, which is supposed to be 'premium'. However, there are news reports claiming that teabags, like those used by the Tea Pigs people, contain microplastics. Apparently, they're not harmful, but if you believe that, you'll believe anything, so I might have sparkling mineral water instead. The problem with not drinking alcohol is that you're limited to shit - or non-alcohol beer, which amounts to the same thing. Today, sitting in a restaurant in Budapest, I realised how crap non-alcohol beer can be and resolved not to order it again. Not that they have any on board this BA875 flight. They do have peppermint tea and I'd like one, but I'm put off by those micro-plastics, so it's going to have to be mineral water. Despite the fact that there's only a few people on the plane, it still seems to be taking an age to be served, but I can wait, I had a late breakfast around 0930hrs and then lunch around 1400hrs and I'm not particularly hungry, although I might have a Kit Kat.
 |
| You can't beat writing on a plane, longhand |
We're almost in October. Soon the clocks will go back and it's winter and, of course, Christmas! Mum will be 90 in November. I'm actually lost for words, I just want some mineral water and a Kit Kat, but the cabin crew are taking their time.
It was pleasant wandering around Budapest and I know that whenever the city is mentioned somebody always brings up the fact that it's two cities: Buda and Pest. My walk took me into Buda, which is a little sleepier than Pest where I was staying. I visited the odd gift shop, bought a fridge magnet and that was about it. Had I not had a late breakfast, I might have sat in one of the coffee shops, I might have enjoyed a cookie or a cake, but I didn't need food. I do now, though!
Guilt-free?
Come on, Ladies! I'm hungry! I felt like yelling this, but decided not to. Stop yabbering to the other passengers and come and serve me instead! In all honesty, I'm not that bothered. I can wait, but at this rate I won't get a drink until we arrive in boring old London. A Kit Kat and a mineral water, that's what I need and I need it now, not next week. Ah! Here they come. I'd better stop writing for a while and secure my order - here goes, back in a second.
I've ordered a can of Loveau, a sparkling, flavoured mineral water with nothing nasty in it, or so they say. The drink is claimed to be all-natural, zero-calorie and sugar-free and 'bursting with juicy berry flavour'. Well, it's alright, but there's an old woman on board who simply won't stop coughing and it's a little off-putting. I hope her germs don't circulate through the cabin and infect me! She's making a right old noise and putting me off my food. Shut up!
Culture vultures
I tell you what I like about being in Europe - and I don't mean politically, I mean physically - and that is the fact that they are much more cultured that us Brits. As I was about to walk across the so-called Chain Bridge, there was a woman handing out leaflets for classical concerts at Saint Stephen's Basilica. The programme included Bach, Handel, Saint-Saens, Vivaldi, Purcell, Schubert, Sibeliius and Mozart and it also printed their dates of birth and death. JS Bach was 92 when he died, according to the leaflet. I would have loved to attend that concert, but here I am halfway to London Heathrow, and besides, it's not until Sunday (29th September) when I'll be at home listening to the rain.
 |
| Circling over London... |
It's so nice not having anybody sitting in my row. It means I can spread out a bit. Who needs business class? The plane is virtually empty. It must have something to do with the planned strike, which was called off. I'm guessing that nobody booked the flight because they thought it would be cancelled. But the strike was called off and hey presto! Virtually no other passengers.
 |
| London clearly visible below... |
We are flying on an A320 Airbus. I've been on holiday to the USA recently and flew on an A340. The 320 has two rows of three seats whereas the Virgin A340 I flew on to New York (and later back from Washington DC) had a row of two seats, a central row of four seats and another row of two seats.
Do I like flying? Yes and no. In some way not particularly, but in others it's the most exciting part of most trips aboard. I get by, I suppose. It's nice when the flight is smooth and the plane is empty, like now, but this is rare. I remember once flying home from Paris and there was only five of us on the flight. Fantastic! It would be good to fly across the Atlantic in an empty plane, but I doubt that will ever happen.
Outside the cloud below us has reappeared, but the sun is still shining and we are flying towards it. We appear to be flying between Aachen and Dortmund and have 55 minutes left in the air. Our descent will start within the next 20 minutes and I'm amazed at how time seems to fly when I write long hand in notebook like now. Writing, however, needs space and, hold on, the engines have slowed and I'd imagine that means the descent has begun. The cloud below has thinned again. What was I saying? Oh yes, oh, hold on again, I can see land below! Buildings and roads, but it can't be the UK, not yet. I'd imagine it's Germany or the Netherlands. Anyway, I was talking about writing. For me it's a solitary thing so when writing on a plane it helps to have nobody sitting next to me trying to see what I'm writing.
 |
| Heading for the gate... |
The Reckoning
A white-haired gentleman across from me is (or was) reading a John Grisham novel and just because those engines slowed earlier doesn't mean we have started our descent, we haven't. The plane is still flying at 38,000 feet. Perhaps the cloud is getting thicker and higher as we approach the UK? The sun is still shining too, but then it always is once you get above the clouds, unless it's night time. I hate night flights as I like to see what's going on; there's nothing worse than turbulence when you can't see what's happening outside.
The captain has just said we're about to start our descent and are currently over Amsterdam. Looks as if we will be circling around the airport before we land, but by all accounts it might be relatively clear skies as those sitting on the right hand side of the plane (the man with the John Grisham novel and the woman who keeps coughing) will get good views of the City of London as we come into the land, according to the captain. Lucky them!
 |
| Time to disembark... |
Writing on a lap top is fine, but you can't beat a notepad and pen, it's so relaxing.
The map shows the plane over the North Sea and heading towards Dover, there's 32 minutes to go. Soon those seat belt signs will go on and I won't be able to use the tray on which I am resting my notebook. I bought the notebook in Tokyo, just the for record.
 |
| You can't beat an empty airport terminal |
Looking down on a rough sea
The sea below looks a little choppy. I can make out the white horses, which seem frozen in time at this height. I guess there will be less cloud because of the breezy conditions, not sure. We are definitely descending as my ears are going and I have to swallow to hear properly. There's around 25 minutes to go but there is still sea below us as we head towards Essex at 26,500 feet and 95 miles left to go. Now, just a few words later, we're at 23,000 feet and there's 23 minutes left of the flight. The plane has just gone through a bit of cloud, it shook slightly, but is through the other side, and below I can see the UK coastline. We are now over land and there are 71 miles left to fly. More UK coastline below us and I think it's the Thames Estuary as we now appear to be following a river. There's a building down there, close to the water and there are flashing lights, some kind of amusement park or fairground perhaps? Now there are patchwork fields and clusters of housing and we're still following the river. I can see lights here and there because it's not fully dark yet. More houses, more patchwork fields and I think we're in some kind of holding pattern with 21 minutes to go. Through the cloud, a higher density of housing, motorways, traffic, infrastructure.
The John Grisham novel the white-haired man across the aisle from me was reading was The Reckoning.
We are banking left and the wing is brushing the cloud. Lights below twinkle.
"Cabin crew, thanks very much. Ten minutes to landing," says the captain.
We are going through cloud and it got a little bumpy. There's more to come and I'm now writing on my lap. Not my laptop, my lap. Big clumps of cloud. I hope we don't have to go round again. We're banking to the right and the city below is twinkling like the stars.
"Cabin crew, seats for landing," the captain commands.
We are flying over the Thames. There are high rise buildings, streets and roads, a floodlit football pitch. We've banked right and have levelled out. A park, another football pitch, the Thames again, we're flying parallel to the river, I can see traffic and yet another football pitch, in fact, three of them. This must be the final approach. The bunkers of a golf course are just about visible in the approaching twilight and still the river is there. The undercarriage is down, flaps are down too, buses and houses, front and back gardens, a tube train, road markings, a busy roundabout, more houses, car parks, airport buildings, the runway, we're down and the engines have been thrown into reverse to slow us down.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Heathrow Terminal Three," says a member of the cabin crew.
We're home!
We parked up at the jetty around 1922hrs and that woman with the cough who, incidentally, is sitting next to the white-haired man who was reading the John Grisham novel, is still coughing.
I sailed through immigration, bowled cockily into the baggage reclaim area, carousel number 8, picked up my case, waltzed through customs and headed out of the airport.
Further reading...
For more notes from flights, click here. There's another one here. And how about this one from a recent flight home from New York, click here! There's also this rant from a flight to San Antonio, click here. I also got busy on a flight from Delhi to London, click here.
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