The Old Lag

Jet lag, one of those catchall words that covers a multitude of sins. I've been awake since before 5, so decided to improve the shining hour and crash and burn later.

Montreal is an incredible city, and really does have a different feel from other Canadian cities. The people dress quite differently, more like London really, and the hats! Not the dreadful old baseball cap that is so ubiquitous, but Rude Boy hats, Alley Cat hats, Jazz hats, even the RCMP here wear their hats, and of course the trapper hats with the earflaps.
Even the less well-off have a certain style.

And this was without even being able to get into the city proper.

I lost track of time. Thursday, was it Thursday? Checkout was midday then back on the shuttle bus to the airport with all my luggage. At the airport however, checkIN wasn't until 15.40, so I had much time to feel like a bag lady. And it certainly gave me a tiny, teeny, titchy bit of an insight into the that problem for the homeless during the cold weather, where they wouldn't go into shelters that made them leave their supermarket trolleys with all their worldly goods outside.

Post check-in though, my airport world was transformed.

Either to compensate for inconveniences suffered, or because they were the only seats they had (cynical, moi?) we were put in business class. So...we were allowed in the executive lounge. What luxury. The rest of the day went in a delightful haze of free food and drink and leather armchairs, free newspapers from around the world, and watching the snow ploughs clear the runway. I also talked with a really nice couple from Wiltshire and the time seemed to fly by. When it was time, we just sauntered onto our plane to be pampered some more, with champagne. The flight attendant came round with a tray on which were actual glasses of orange juice and sparkling wine.
'Orange juice,' she said, 'or AMERICAN champagne?'
The chairs tipped back and the legrests came out so far and there was so much space, that we were more or less lying down. It was crazily comfortable. There was a booklet menu to choose from for food.
Lush it was, lush.

Then British Rail. How easy it is to forget the ongoing sense of humour of people here. How much fun quite ordinary interactions are. Eeveryone needs to get plugged into it from time to time.

Today we're letting the train take the strain again, it's Teddy's birthday and we're off to the Natural History Museum.
Later.