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...but not of the native.

Whilst residents of Kensal Rise, North-West London, were experiencing a tornado yesterday, I was becalmed and pondering my own lack of a plan B.

Austen delivered me to the station in good time for the train to Gatwick, and lo, it arrived and left on time. Then it got stuck about three stations before Chichester where a freight train was waiting to be shunted. We were warned that we could be sitting there for up to an hour. The railway carriage was full of horrible shrieking schoolboys in green uniforms, so that was less than the news I wanted to hear. If I missed my flight, which was a charter, I could have been waiting a week.
British Rail however, having presumably caused the hold-up in the first place, resolved it in good time.

The next problem was at check-in. Where security at Vancouver had been low-key, at Gatwick it was anal. In the end there was no time between security and getting to the Departures gate, no, no time until we were sitting on the 'plane. And then we sat and waited ...for some more fuel to arrive. Ok, sure, I don't want to take off in a plane that has insufficient fuel, but really.

We flew into Calgary, and Calgary looked very wintery indeed, snow, a soupy, snowy looking fog cloaking the airport. But it wasn't so wintery that we had to sit there for hours having our wings de-iced, so I did get here and in the end was only about three-quarters of an hour late.
There is still snow on the ground here, dirty snow, creamy snow, and there is snow on the mountains, so I feel blessed.

I was also pleased to be able to arrive back on my son Laurence's birthday, and deliver his presents plus his clothes, books and DVDs. And he seemed pleased to get them.

PS. I've added some pictures to the posts from when I was away, if'n anyone would like to go back and see them.