The Race, The Coach, The Cold
“Life, The Universe and Everything”
- In the beginning I begun to write this trip report. This made a lot of people very angry, and has been widely regarded as a bad move.
- First action of being 42 – Coach 210, British Airways Galleries South
- BA710 London to Zürich in Club Europe
- A brief wander into Zürich featuring the Canon 50mm F1.2
- Mostly Harmless – The Zürich Airport Observation Deck
- The Aspire Lounge, Zürich Airport (B/D Dock)
- BA717 Zürich to London in Club Europe
- The Race, The Coach, The Cold
- Six by Nine? Forty Two?
With the plane at the dock, I headed off it – and checked the clock. The early coach had long gone. I had two choices… wait for the next coach, or heft it into London, and then on a train home.
Running the numbers in my head indicated that both options would mean me arriving in Birmingham at almost exactly the same time all things being equal. Since taking the train would involve more money, I was shying away from it… and wait for the coach.
It would all depend how long I would be stuck the UK Border. The answer amazingly – was not that long. There were no queues on arrivals, so I headed straight to the e-passport clearance machines.
With a relatively new passport, I was cleared straight away.
From here, it was a walk down the escalator and into the baggage collection hall.
With no luggage to collect, I headed through the Blue customs channel and out into the public area.
I re-did the numbers again, and concluded the coach would be the best option for convenience.
With an hour and a half wait for the coach, I did what I would normally do to kill time at Heathrow – and headed back to Costa Coffee for a wait. And have another coffee.
With a big thing of coffee, I was set for the hour and a bit wait.
This also gave me time to reflect on the day, and also the amount of Skytrax awards that Heathrow Airport have won.
Checking the National Express App on my phone, I saw the coach was coming in a little early. I took that as my leave and headed outside to the cold to wait.
As I got to the bus stop, the coach pulled in – pretty perfect timing. There was a bit of a wait to depart as the coach had pulled in early – but I wasn’t exactly objecting.
The coach eventually departed, and took the perimeter road to the Central Terminal Area – where we were met with the mother of all traffic queues
Going through the tunnel under the runway slowly, it was obvious why one of the roads was shut – some poor person had broken down in the tunnel.
After picking a few more passengers at Terminal 2 and 3, the coach made a break for the M4, the M25 and the M40 back towards the midlands, calling at High Wycombe Coachway, Warwick Parkway, Coventry, Birmingham Airport and Birmingham Coach station.
I had serious concerns on the way about the snow in Birmingham that morning – had more fallen in the mean time, or had it receded?
And that worried me – mainly as I was pondering what madness my taxi driver would consider when I got to Birmingham..
Amazingly, there was little sign of snow on the edges of the carriageways as the coach approached the city (even if the driver had a sudden fear of god in him to get to Birmingham in a hurry).
By the time the coach entered the inner circle of Birmingham, there was no snow to be found.
After getting off the coach, it was a matter of hail a Uber for the ride back to the flat. 20 minutes later – and about 21 hours… I was back at my front door.
Normally, this is where I’d end the trip report. Except the next day I woke up, and took one look out of the window.
And a lot of the UK and Europe were saying exactly the same thing too…
Finally: Six by Nine? Forty Two?
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