Unusually I am writing this on the plane from Mallorca. Or better – on a plane in Mallorca. Because thanks to yet another French strike (‘good old Frenchies’, as someone has just texted me), my fellow passengers and I are grounded at the moment. We have been herded through the tunnels and into our seats almost an hour ago in a hope that the pilot can negotiate an earlier takeoff time for us.
The pilot (sounding more and more resigned every time he talks to us) has succeeded to bring our delay from 2,5 hours to 2 hours. I guess it’s better than all those flights that have been cancelled.
The view is getting a bit boring, so when I am not writing to you, I am flicking through the snaps on my phone (which I align with the window, so it looks like there is sea outside).
But let’s not grumble! We have seats, our crew keep bringing us water (on a short haul flight? For free?!) and so far a fight hasn’t broken out.
And to think that we are getting extra 120 minutes on the plane for no extra charge! Wow!