The Delays

I guess we must have thought, looking at the EasyJet website five months ago, that since the flight from Inverness to Bristol was only an hour and ten minutes, we'd really have the whole day in Bristol to enjoy and discover.

What's an hour and ten minutes? It's nothing! We'd be practically waking up in Bristol, right? And once there, the airport is just outside of town, we can drive straight to our digs, and strut around town!

This isn't exactly what happened. The flight itself was a masterpiece of genial efficiency, Scottish style. The road from our Inverness cottage to the airport was empty and beautiful. The airport was small. The security were friendly and clear. The aircraft was small. I had nobody sitting next to me. We got away on time. We arrived early.

But the shit and the fan had not yet met their point of encounter.

That was to come the moment we stepped outside Bristol airport, and had to wait for a long time for the bus to the Car Rental Building, located I think on one of the Faroe Islands considering how long it took us to get there. The building was a desolate glass and steel warehouse, and when we walked in, we were the only customers in a huge hall surrounded by competing car rental companies. It was like an abandoned space port.

The Sixt Car Rental booth was abandoned, but eventually an obsequious man in a waistcoat arrived and started spinning us all sorts of complex yarns. My face turned to thunder again. I was having none of it. Stuart was the picture of calm. We were referred to the Europcar booth - useless, and then to the Avis booth - useful, but hilariously slow. It took us around 30 minutes of standing at the booth for the computer to process our rental, a little Fiat for four days to be dropped off at Euston.

The Fiat was a nice size, but it had a strange ring around its gear stick. You had to pull the ring up like a foreskin to get the thing into reverse. We only learned that by Googling it and watching a YouTube tutorial while the car was plonked illegally in the Hertz parking spaces.

Isn't this a great Find Penguins entry?

Anyway, we made it to Bristol and we were able to park the car - but not check in. So we went to Cabot Circus - another lunar bio-dome full of disaffected teens with painted hair and torn clothes - I loved them ALL - where we had the WORST coffee of the trip at Costa Coffee. Still, it was fun to walk around in the glittering sunshine and see how dynamic, how activated, how convivial Bristol is. There's a bit of hollering and hooting, but nothing too spooky.

We got a glimpse of some of the city's charms - Castle Park, a few boats, a dining district - but really we have barely arrived.

The lesson here is: it takes all day to go from one city to another. You might feel like it takes an hour, but it takes all day. The energy required to pack up all your chattels and hit the road is immense!

I'm glad we have a four day stay. Tomorrow: Clifton Suspension Bridge, and better fucking coffee!Read more