2011 - One Day At A Time!: Day 79 - Sunday, March 19th, 2011

So, it's 7 o'clock on a Sunday morning and I'm getting up for a flight - "what gives?!", I hear you scream, in a most endearingly high-pitched manner. I'm off to Guernsey on a business trip, you see, and if I dalllied in Hibernia until later in the day, my flights would have cost €650, so for the corporate cause I have volunteered myself to depart early, saving over €400 - what a corporate angel!

A taxi ferries me from The Lighthouse to the aerodrome, and I note with interest from his ID on the dashboard that the driver's name is Hao She. "Hao She cuttin'?", I shriek, with humourous glee, purely in my mind, as the comment would have been likely to cause considerable offence. The conversation was in fact restricted to establishing that I did indeed wish to go via the Port Tunnel and to answer his question of "Which terminal are you going to?", with "To 1", which I instantly recognised to be confusing, seeing as the options were 2 and 1. "2?", he asked? "No, 1", I replied.

I felt that surely this would the very one time that I would take a Ryanair flight where the plane would be at least one-quarter empty, for who in their right mind would want to go to Bristol at the crack of Sunday dawn? Of course I had entirely forgotten that English folk had been in the city in their thousands the night before, hoping in vain to witness a Grand Slam success, so of course the flight was full to capacity. It was again deliciously buffoon-free though, although the air hostess was one of those plonkers who loves to turn the speaker up to maximum volume and peddle all sorts of tat such as scratch cards, smokeless cigarettes and creamy cappuccinos throughout the flight, culminating in the noisy release of the Punctuality Bugle.

Yes, the flight was perfectly on time, meaning that I had no less than 5 hours to pass in Bristle airport, and I did so with relative ease, starting with brunch of a smoothie, fruit salad and tomato egg 'n basil sandwich, moving onwards to intense scrutiny of the Sunday papers.

Before one knew it, 'twas time to board an Aurigny hairdryer which transported me with effortless ease to a very sunny Guernsey, where Graham the friendly taxi-man was upon hand to whisk me to Moores Central Hotel, which was indeed very central, being as it was in the very heart of St. Peter Port. After a most pleasant walk along the harbourside, time for an ale in the White Hart Inn to watch Chelsea beat Manchester City 2-0 followed by the second and final meal of the day at Sawatdee Thai restaurant, consisting of sublime hot and sour Tom Yum soup with giant prawns, a hot and sour beef salad, chicken massaman curry (which was requested to be ultra-spicy and naturally was nothing of the kind), lemon sorbet and jasmine tea. Bleedin' d'lish, man!