I'll be home for Christmas

Today is the day I have been bracing myself for all week. Today I am plunging myself into every expat's nightmare: the airport on the weekend before Christmas. I personally know at least five other -unrelated- people boarding a plane today and at an expected 1.2 million passengers pouring through Heathrow airport over the next week that is just the tip of the iceberg. I have chilling visions of queues meandering all the way from Gatwick to Croydon and anticipate a long, long day.

Last year I got stuck at Gatwick for 9 hours after my flight was cancelled due to fog. Of those nine hours I spent about 4 queuing with nothing to eat or drink and no way to get out and buy some without losing my spot in the queue. I will not let that happen to me this year. My carry-on luggage is stuffed with high-energy snacks and water. Things aren't looking all that promising this year either. Yesterday more flights were cancelled, again courtesy of the English mists. On top of that airport staff has been threatening to go on strike over the Christmas period. That threat has now been pushed back until two days after my return to the Big Smoke but with people cruel enough to entertain the thought of striking over Christmas, you just never know.

Why o why do we submit ourselves to this annual horror? I am actually not that keen on Christmas at all and wouldn't be too put out by just pretending it isn't there. My mum would strangle me though, I fear, if I didn't make the effort. Like most families we'll sit through the obligatory Christmas dinner and stuff ourselves. It's the season to be jelly. So here I am, with my bags packed and a heart filled with dread at the day ahead of me, ready to cross the puddle.

See you on the other side!