Sunshine a distant memory

It seems that I am not alone in being seriously underwhelmed by the atrocities committed, mostly in the galley, by Virgin Atlantic. I hear from Cathie the Culture about a horror story which spawned what the Daily Telegraph considered to be the best customer complaint story of the year, which you can read here. Another regular correspondent tells of her daughter recently which involved her flying back with Sir Dicky Pickles shambolic airline from Grenada where the drinks ran out (again) and in which she was served with food past it’s sell by date and also that around 50 per cent of the much vaunted “award winning” in-flight entertainment TV’s were inoperative.  Award winning, literally can be a two edged sword.  I think the award should be “the Chris France Worst Airline In The World”, in fact they can now consider themselves the recipient of that award. It will be in my complaint letter. Perhaps subliminally that out of date food was intended for Cathie the Culture as it seemingly may have had a bit of a mould about it and I know how much she likes a bit of culture of this kind.
So back in England  to clear out a barn, and recommence my missionary position vis-a-vis giving out advice on how to save money on foreign exchange and try to repair the damage and wear and tear you discover has inevitably occurred when renting out an old house for seven years.

Today my final picture from Cuba taken from the roof terrace of the Ambos Mundos Hotel in Havana which was a very agreeable luncheon spot with great views across to the old fort at Casablanca and across the city to the harbour and the other way along the coast towards central Havana. This was where that nice lady decorator spent 8 CUC (about £5 at today’s exchange rates according to Currencies Direct) to see a hotel room with a typewriter, their dedication to Ernest Hemingway.

Ambos Mundos Hotel roof terrace looking towards Casablanca

So from the delights of Cuba it has been our misfortune to have to spend most of yesterday emptying a barn in which we have stored loads of crap valuable personal possessions belonging to that nice lady decorator, together with some of my gold and platinum discs. Unfortunately, after the cold weather a few weeks ago it seems a pipe must have burst and has been running for the last month soaking most stuff in the building. So it was great fun to wade through water with your loved one, a bit like we were doing in Cuba a few days ago, however this experience was somewhat less edifying. At least afterwards I thought I would be able to stroll up to The Chequers in Weston Turville for a pint but as if to administer the final slap in the face reminder that we were back in the cold of England, the pub was shut, it shuts on Mondays. Having no warm clothes and with the frost beginning to form and no car we had no choice but to return home and drink all the wine we had, light a fire and huddle around it.

More of the same today, so please do not expect any excitement or vitality in this column today, I am tired, cold, dispirited and thirsty , In fact the only thing I am looking forward to today is a pint of London Pride tonight as long as the infernal pub is open. We have been invited to fridge magnet salesman extraordinaire Paul North for some roadkill surprise tonight, so life is really grim….

Chris France