Leaky Lanzarote

We should’ve realised on our journey to Gatwick that this was going to be a holiday with a difference. 

Junction 10 on the M25 was closed so we had planned to take the back roads down to the airport. 

5am and the car was frozen solid, trying to crack the doors open to load the suitcases into the boot whist shivering wearing only a summer dress, sandals and a hoodie for good measure. The car defrosts quite quickly and we are grateful for the new gadgets the new car has to provide, heated steering wheel and seats, blissful.  Pretty soon, I’m sat toasty warm feeling like I’ve wet my pants. Heated seats really are a strange luxury. 

Country lanes test our eyesight, freezing low lying fog holds onto the countryside, giving us glare back from the head lights and skiddy corners. We navigate the roads Colin McRae style, (remember the old car racing computer game?) using the sat nav. My skills of navigation aren’t up to scratch like the co pilot in the passenger seat though. 

Parking up at the airport is a better experience. The car park we had booked into hasn’t been built yet, so they upgrade us to a car park right next to the terminal. Not so far to walk in this freezing weather. 

Bag drop off is even better, all automated, you do it all yourself, no nice lady made up to the hilt giving you a nice smile, dazzling teeth and bright red lippy. If your cases are below the required weight the machine spits a label at you to fasten onto your case. I miss the human interaction but there’s no queue at the faceless machines. The only people in sight are about 30 easyJet staff all waiting for people who need help with the bag check in. 

Onto the most stressful bit of the journey, security. Again, strangely there’s no queue. Straight to the trays, is the iPad out of the rucksack, a lady shakes her finger at me, it can stay in the bag. Pockets emptied and everything piled into the tray. Waiting for the dreaded bit where your tray either flies through or requires further investigation. Steve’s flies through, mine pauses, flipping ‘eck. My rucksack is full of wool and a newly acquired plastic crochet hook, oh yeah and my iPad. It’s not busy so a lovely lady beckons me over.  It’s the iPad causing the problems she tells me. New ones can stay in the bag, older ones are flagged up, I joke to Steve that I obviously need a new one. Off we go in search of breakfast. 

Wetherspoons has tables and within minutes we are tucking in. Our gate is called, we wander along, again very few people here. A female member of staff starts to yell for us to board. We normally hang about until one of the last ones to board. We don’t want to sit on the plane any longer than we have to. EasyJet aren’t famous for having lots of space, so we hang about, still not many passengers. The member of staff bounces past us, shouting for all passengers to board, giving us the side eye. Not wanting to be reprimanded anymore we dutifully join the short queue and board, find our seats and get out our ear buds, books and of course my crocheting. Then the masses arrive. Leaning into you as they struggle to  get their stuff into the overhead lockers. Leaning into you to let others past, this is exactly why we hate the idea of being on the plane early.  We do land lucky though, we are on a row of three and the third seat is still empty, the doors are closed, we spread out, enjoying the extra space. 

Seat belts buckled and checked, then the pilot announces that we need our wings defrosted,there will be a short wait for the man with the big can of de icer.

At this point the seats in front us haven’t really been noticed. An older couple and their middle aged son whose name is probably Tarquin or Lucian. 

Dad is suddenly messing about trying to manipulate himself in the space that the seat allows whilst he wriggles his feet into his compression socks. At this point we have left the middle seat free and filled it with my crocheting, books and boiled sweets and I’m sat on the aisle seat. Tarquin is loudly regaling his parents with how good he is at his job and that his wife thinks it’s important for a, probably, 35+ year old man to have time away with his parents. Mum at this points scrambles over Dad who is just straightening his socks and proceeds to bounce and do stretches in the aisle. 

Take off is an hour late, a point to note here is that this is the point that things start to go wrong. 

Tarquin’s parents stand for 15 mins every half hour of the flight. Taking time to bounce and stretch in a, attempt at avoiding DVT. The problem is that with the pair of them bouncing about they aren’t confined to their row only and bounce up and down and stand on my feet even though they are firmly under the seat in front of me. Steve chooses this moment to visit the loo and elbows them out of the way, I scuttle across to the window seat, in an attempt at saving my toes. Also, Steve won’t be as tolerant as I am and will definitely tell them, which he does in no uncertain terms. Staring out of the window at nothing but sea and clouds, I realise that Tarquin, despite his age, has that awful teenage boy smell. It sticks in my nose for the entire flight whilst his mum and dad now annoy the people on the row in front of them. 

Lanzarote is in view, the pilot announces that we are preparing to land.  The beautiful island of wind and sunshine is sitting under a big, black cloud. My luck really has run out.

Not to worry, we find our apartment complex. Somewhere new again for us to stay. We settle in, buy some supplies and just as we finish putting the water and the milk in the fridge the sun comes out and we both snooze on a sunbed. This is where we discover the tv doesn’t work and the WiFi is hit and miss. 

The following morning I wake early as my back is in bits, the mattress was the softest mattress ever with no support at all. Rain is forecast and the clouds are looming over the mountains. 

We head out for lunch and head back just as the first spots start to fall.  Patio doors thrown open to the world in an attempt at trying to get some cool air in, we sit down and attempt at watching something on the iPad.

The cat that lives on the complex chooses our patio to shelter in, as the time goes on she is slowly but surely heading near and nearer to the doors. It’s now ankle deep outside and showing no signs of stopping. The cat creeps in and settles herself in the dry watching the weather through the doors. I love cats, so I’m not about to kick her out in this. A little while later we discover that the strip on the seafront is flooding. Good old Facebook, keeping us up to date.

At this point the cat darts outside and takes refuge under a sunbed on our patio, how strange we comment that she’d choose to go back out, it really is leathering it down. Then we realise why, our ground floor apartment’s ceiling has sprung a leak, the cat must’ve been getting splashed. Mop bucket to the rescue collecting the drops, it really is too bad to go to reception to tell them. The crack in the ceiling gets bigger, we hear the cleaner upstairs, we get her to check the apartment above us but it’s dry as a bone, she does however phone through to reception for us. That’s when she realises that the balcony above us is flooded and somehow the water must be finding a way into our apartment. It’s now found another point to rain in, right above the tv.

The rain starts to subside and by the time the guy in reception comes we are awash with buckets, bowls and pans. 

He tells us to pack our belongings, he will find us another apartment. At this point people are starting to return to the complex after being trapped in bars and restaurants by the weather. Lots of the ground floors are flooded as the water has come into their apartments under the patio doors. Mops and towels to the rescue and thankfully there only seems to be our apartment with any major damage. 

After the rain, the clouds parted and the sun came out. We relocated to a new apartment, we are now on the first floor. Brucey Bonus too, the bed is so much comfier than our first one. 

Now to enjoy the holiday and the sunshine, after that much rain I don’t think there can be anymore left up there to come down.  As the sun sets we settle down for a big dose of rest and relaxation.