Cant the hotels bring food to your room rather then have to trek out in the rain.
Not this one, Furby - it was bed and breakfast only. I could have gone to a pub called Bjórgarðurinn just across the road from Storm Hotel...............but I fancied chicken fried rice at the Thai restaurant. Maybe next time.
Still nothing about fines from Enterprise.
Like the late Chaircat Midge, I am not always right.
Time to go home. I went down to Reception at 04:15 to pay my phone charge as I had used the landline in my room a few times, to be given the pleasant news that landline calls were free. Although I had stopped the wake-up call it rang anyway at 04:30; 10 minutes later I hauled my luggage to near the entrance and waited for Baldur. I noticed that the hotel put out coffee and Icelandic doughnuts for guests departing before breakfast, so I ate a doughnut.
Baldur arrived on time and off we went to the airport which is 30 miles from Reykjavík. He dropped me right at the entrance to the air terminal, we said our goodbyes and off we both went - Baldur back home to help his wife with their playgroup, and me to the check-in for Saga Premier class. Then I went through security and found myself in the middle of the duty-free shop, where I bought my litre of Remy Martin in its frosted green glass bottle. The Icelanders do not miss a trick, and when it came to payment the card machine offered the price in both krónur and £; as I had already noted the £ price was £58 where the bottles were shelved I went for krónur. The £ price on the card machine had been more than £61 so I was pleased a few days later when it showed as just under £58 on my credit card statement. Always pay in local currency, that's my motto.
Then I went to seek the pleasures of the Saga Premier Class lounge - it was busy but not full and I had breakfast there, all part of the service. I was there somewhat longer than anticipated because the Heathrow flight was delayed - I haven't a clue why, all the other flights seemed to be to time. Eventually the information screen instructed us to go to the gate - where there was a queue that seemed to be endless. Icelandair sent staff along the queue to check us in there, marking our boarding cards; when they saw I was business class they sent me on my way and there was a gate just for us lucky Saga Class people. I joined a much shorter queue in the tube that joins up to the airplane door and was soon in my window seat. When the plane was airborne I had a second breakfast - bagel with salmon and cream cheese though I ate the salmon etc separately and spread the bagel halves with jam instead. Then a slabby but tasty omelette with cheese, roasted tomatoes, bacon and potatoes, and stewed apple in Greek yoghurt to finish. My talkative and friendly travelling neighbour had champagne with her breakfast - she didn't like the food part and left most of it; I refrained from offering to eat up what she didn't like, not wishing to lower the tone of Saga Class. I had a Remy Martin with my coffee.
And so I kept an eye on our flight progress to Heathrow while we chatted. The lady (originally from Ghana IIRC) had been to Iceland to attend a wedding; her husband had worked in the pharmaceutical industry in Iceland for a number of years and they had made Icelandic friends. They had lived in a fair number of places and had finished up in Switzerland. She was staying in London for a few days before going home. We landed at Heathrow 30 minutes late, and soon it was time to say goodbye. She was an assisted traveller so she knew she would have to wait a while before the assistance people got her off the plane etc.
And so on to immigration control. My purple passport always had arguments with the Egates and my new blue French-made passport was no different. I don't like the Egates and the Egates don't like me, so off I went to the queue for the chapess to look at my passport in the good old-fashioned way. There was no delay when I reached the baggage carousel though I made damn sure I picked up the right suitcase after my Iceland fiasco. Then I phoned Fab to let him know I was approaching Customs and 15 minutes later I was on my way home in his nice big taxi. He had already taken a client to Stansted and come from there to collect me at Heathrow; and after dropping me at home he was calling in at base before heading off to Gatwick to pick up a client there.
I arrived home at around 14:30; next morning I collected Them and brought Them home. They very quickly forgave me and soon all three of us were together on the sofa.
And that was my trip to Iceland.
Like the late Chaircat Midge, I am not always right.
Martin Lewis mentioned paying in local currency on one of his shows and said you should always choose local currency paying in shops or atms and airports. So well done oc for knowing it himself.
On coronation Street they have a taxi cab office and one minor plot is the drivers arguing over who is lucky to get an airport run so the fab driver did well to get three in one day.
