Awoke at 6 am, and packed my bag, checking on the television whether the weather was suitable for travelling. It didn't look to bad, all things considered. The taxi turned up to return me to bonny Gatwick for half the fare that last night's cab had charged. The latter was an airport taxi, which generally fleeces the punters who don't know any better. Gatwick was slightly better organised than yesterday, and things were moving.
Not for me. Although the plane for Glasgow was leaving at 8.25, I was not booked onto it. I'm livid about that, because I had gone out of my way to rebook my flights. And it had not been done. Grrr. A kind BA employee booked me on a flight out of Heathrow at 2.05pm, which would have me back in Stornoway by 6.50pm. It required me to take a coach to Heathrow, and once on the motorway, there were problems. An accident on the M23 north of Gatwick, and one on the M25 near Reigate caused a delay, but nothing too serious.
Arrived into Heathrow's Terminal 5 at 9.30 am, in plenty of time for my flight. Terminal 5 was a nightmare. People were dossing down on the floor, queueing left right and centre, and it was a miracle that there wasn't a riot. Large numbers of cancelled flights, and after I had queued for 90 minutes, my flight was also cancelled. Before I was told that, the couple in front of me found that they had missed their plane, and they threw a wobbler at the poor girl in the check-in desk. It took nearly half an hour before they accepted that they had missed the plane.
I rang BA at 12, and they rebooked me to a flight at 4.35pm. I had a long wait ahead of me. Terminal 5 was finally getting its act together, and an area was allocated to people going on shorthaul, European or domestic flights. I was allowed in there by 2.35pm. Well, things began to look up from there. I was actually checked in, taken through security and lo and behold, at 4.35 I was on the plane. Which was not going anywhere for another hour, because the luggage was late and the truck that was going to push the plane away from the stand decided to malfunction. Take-off by 5.45, and we witnessed a nice dusk.
Glasgow was reached an hour later, and by 7pm I found myself on the bus into the city. With some fastfood in hand, I managed to get on the 7.41 train to Perth, from where a different train took me to Inverness in two and a half hours. Pity it was dark; it is one of the most scenic railrides in the country. And here I am, in my second hotel, closing down the day.