There is so much to tell you, and most of it is a complete catastrophe, but let me start at the beginning.
Yesterday might have been the single worst day of this year apart from the day we thought my mother had cancer or when my dog died (2017 really WASN'T my year). Anyway, it all started with my flight being delayed by more than three hours due to bad weather conditions. Here I have to intersect that I CANNOT recommend flying from Innsbruck airport because the flights get regularly cancelled or delayed because of the high fog in the mountains. So, why was it such a catastrophe that my flight was delayed? Well, apart from me having to sit around for hours, sweating and being bored, I also had a ticket booked for the Harry Potter exhibition at the British Library - A History of Magic. My allotted time slot was from 15h30 to 16h00 to enter and if we'd left in time, I'd have plenty of it left to make it to the library, store my luggage and get a decent lunch. However, our flight couldn't land and it ended with our flight being cancelled altogether and us being transferred to the next flight, which, thankfully, only had 26 passengers booked on which meant they crammed it with the remaining passengers wanting to go to London Gatwick and Bristol. I am sure you can imagine that it was a complete disaster as none of the crew members of the second flight were prepared for the masses of people and even though they tried their hardest, the second flight was also seriously delayed due to their incapability to locate some passengers within the airport (Innsbruck airport is about the size of one Starbucks in Heathrow. It has literally ONE terminal). Now, I was sitting in the airplane for over an hour while we waited until they found and allocated the Bristol passengers and I was positively fuming. Time was ticking and tocking away, as were my chances to be admitted to the exhibition. I was already planning my next trip in February to visit it, but as you can imagine, I was crestfallen. Eventually, after more than three hours, we took off and headed to London. We landed at quarter to three and had everything gone according to plan, I would have been in London three hours already, so you can imagine the scenario unfolding. Similar to the Frankfurt Marathon, you could watch a lunatic racing through the airport, pushing people aside (yes, also children) and huffing and puffing like an old train. Sweat was running down my spine and I seriously thought I would have a massive asthma attack here and now because I could barely breathe. Despite me knowing I wouldn't make it in time, I was set to succeed in my mission to reach the BL in time and see the exhibition. As soon as I arrived in London Victoria, I raced down the overheated underground corridors before zooming through the streets around Euston Street until, panting heavily and on the verge of tears, I arrived at the BL, nearly half an hour late. When I collapsed at the desk, explaining in short sentences (I had no breath left) what my dismay was and if there could be anything done, they reacted a little too quick for my taste and immediately assured me that would be no problem whatsoever. OK, no problem whatsoever. Good to know after having marathoned through London like a lunatic. But of course I was relieved beyond anything and wonder if they admitted me because I must have looked like a complete deranged person, obviously having a minor (or major) breakdown. Sweat running down my spine and forehead, I could eventually see the exhibition and it was mind-blowing. Early drafts of the HP manuscript were on display, think-sheets and laid-out plans for the serious and I loved reading them and recognising her handwriting. Alongside were books on "real" magic which weren't nearly as intriguing but still pretty interesting and I can only recommend the exhibition highly; however, you need to be quick as it will only run until the end of February and most of the dates are already sold out. Still, the day of running and delays wasn't over yet and when I was towards the end of the exhibition, a slightly determined if not aggressive man came wandering through the rooms, informing us we only had twenty minutes before the doors would be closed. I was devastated because I hadn't explored the shop yet and everybody knows that the shop is the BEST thing about exhibitions and museums. Quickly I raced towards the exit and purchased the book to the exhibition but when I wanted to pay, I couldn't find my English debit card and, alarmed, realised I must have forgotten it when I topped up my Oyster card at the train station, which meant I had to find out the number of my bank and get a new one, etc, etc. The funniest thing about losing the card was that I didn't even care anymore. The day had worn me down so much that it was just too perfect to top it off. With a deep sigh, I paid with my Austrian card and headed to the locker rooms to get my stuff. As I was assorting everything you won't believe what fell out of my purse, just like that. Yah, yah, it was my English debit card... So much about yesterday and my unwelcoming welcome, but now I am here and tomorrow I will tell you about my day out in London and some observations I couldn't help make.
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AuthorIn September 2015 I started a new chapter of my life by moving (temporarily or permanently, not yet decided) to England where I work and socialise now. Archives
December 2017
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