Having been in the Isle of Man on business this week I have just returned to Chez-blog in the Borders and sat down to write this drivel. Sometimes, as regular followers will have spotted, things go quiet and I have nothing to blog about. This week though, that all changed.
First I was on the SAAB 340 twin prop aeroplane at Edinbugh airport getting ready to take off, as we turned on to the runway the front wheel locked and the plane (more a car with wings) slewed to the right finishing at near right angles on the runway itself. It seems there was a problem with the hydraulics. The pilot fixed it (or thought he had) and decided to taxi back to the stand to get things checked. On the way the same thing happened again and we slewed to the right. Eventually after reaching the stand they brought the mechanics out who gave the hydraulics the once over. British Airways, BMI, even FlyBe would give passengers the option to get off at this point. Not so with Loganair who are, to air travel what the Trabant is to Formula 1 racing. I spent the whole 45 min flight on the cursed plane praying that the wheel would not lock out on landing. It didn't.
I stayed in the Claremont Hotel, my first choice of hotel in Douglas, IOM and received the usual upgrade to my room. Fantastic! Until that was about 1.00 a.m. when a water leak me with the fire alarm system. Standing on the seafront of Douglas at that hour of the morning is not fun. Tired, I got back to my room and lay down again just as every seagull from twenty miles around discovered the bag of chips somewhere out side the hotel - specifically outside my room. It took until 5.00 a.m. for the seagull fight to end , I assume either one seagull won or between them they ate all the chips. An hour later the housekeeping staff started banging the doors. End of a lousy night with three hours' sleep.
All through Thursday I was consoled in my exhaustion, by the idea that I had some good material for my blog. Then, on the drive home tonight, I tuned into Radio Scotland (a sort of Radio Two for ginger-haired people) and heard about the escaped Wallabies. There is a family zoo thingy near where we live and it had acquired two wallabies, both of which escaped by swimming across a lake. Both were recovered and are now safe and well. Even more material for the blog then....
At the end of the news they re-capped on a story about "Smurf the hamster" (feel free to google these exact words to prove the authenticity of this).
Smurf ate a toy Spiderman or rather he ate bits of a toy Spiderman. Specifically he ate the small magnet in the toy Spiderman. No-one knew until the next morning when one of the children found Smurf stuck to the metal bars of his cage 5 inches above the ground. The Franciscan in me cannot help feel sorry for poor little Smurf but the blogger in me cannot stop giggling about it.
First I was on the SAAB 340 twin prop aeroplane at Edinbugh airport getting ready to take off, as we turned on to the runway the front wheel locked and the plane (more a car with wings) slewed to the right finishing at near right angles on the runway itself. It seems there was a problem with the hydraulics. The pilot fixed it (or thought he had) and decided to taxi back to the stand to get things checked. On the way the same thing happened again and we slewed to the right. Eventually after reaching the stand they brought the mechanics out who gave the hydraulics the once over. British Airways, BMI, even FlyBe would give passengers the option to get off at this point. Not so with Loganair who are, to air travel what the Trabant is to Formula 1 racing. I spent the whole 45 min flight on the cursed plane praying that the wheel would not lock out on landing. It didn't.
At the end of the news they re-capped on a story about "Smurf the hamster" (feel free to google these exact words to prove the authenticity of this).
Smurf ate a toy Spiderman or rather he ate bits of a toy Spiderman. Specifically he ate the small magnet in the toy Spiderman. No-one knew until the next morning when one of the children found Smurf stuck to the metal bars of his cage 5 inches above the ground. The Franciscan in me cannot help feel sorry for poor little Smurf but the blogger in me cannot stop giggling about it.
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