Take me back to dear old blighty

Stuck in Limbo for 24 hours, I’m finally on the last leg of my journey home.
Airports are devilish places, being in a world where the proprietors of business are deluded to the point that a cheese sandwich is worth £5, but worse still, normally sensible people, myself included, become convinced that this is fair and reach for the cash. The surroundings, by design, break you down to the point that you’re completely at their mercy.

After a two hour delay at Reykjavik, due to adverse weather conditions (it was blowing a 100mph gale, literally), subsequently missing my connecting train to Cardiff, I found myself at the Paddington Hilton, trying to catch some ZzZ’s, but finding the bed rather too large to get comfortable in. Eventually though, gladly, it happened.

Iceland is a beautiful country, when covered in snow. Draped in rain clouds however, as it was on the morning of departure, it became all too familiarly drab. But perhaps I’m being too pessimistic? After all, is anywhere picturesque when lit through grey storm clouds? Not my favourite backdrop, I will admit.

A most perfect Saturday morning was achieved at the Blue Lagoon spa, undoubtedly the most relaxing experience that I believe I have ever had, and this is a high honour coming from someone who has been to some of the most peaceful and beautiful corners of the world.

The water being geothermal, seawater heated naturally underground to 39c and being high in mineral content, the experience was delectable. The salt content also being so high that it was almost possible to float completely unaided only adds to the sense of pure relaxation. I could be forgiven for assuming that it in some way contributes to the fact that Iceland has extraordinarily low crime rates. If only this kind of therapy could be attained here in the UK, road rage and street violence would be unheard of.

My favourite SLR-bridge camera stopped working just a week before the trip, I was rewarded for investing in a new one, however. Some of the shots that I managed to get are spectacular. They are currently up on Facebook, and after being cropped, re-touched and made into ‘final’ shots they will appear on my FlickR photostream. Oh, and there’s a mildly amusing video too which will be YouTube’d as soon as I get home.

Commiserations to all those supposed to be enjoying Morrissey at the London Roundhouse on Thursday, Friday and Sunday, only to have him cancel and send on Russell Brand, Jonathan Ross and David Walliams to explain the situation. Being ill is fine by us Mozzer, but for heaven’s sake, don’t send out those cucumbers to settle a crowd of mostly 30-40 year old male’s!

I’m writing this to say, in a gentle way, thank you, but no.

How many times have I wanted to ditch Wales in favour of a warmer climate, a new life, away from everything? A smidgen more than most, I would be willing to bet.

Today I took it one step further than a dream, packed my bags and headed off to the airport, destination; Reykjavik, Iceland.

The snow laden runway was the first sign that I had arrived somewhere new, somewhere away from the mundane surroundings that form the life that I lead.

I work, I eat, I sleep, I go out, I have the occasional manic episode, and the cycle starts again. But, I’m making it sound worse than it is, I do enjoy the times that I have, but perhaps it’s time to find something new. Let’s rephrase that, somewhere new. Or is that just running away?

The snow is really coming down now and it’s -4c, it really makes me revere being a smoker, seeing as they have a smoking ban here too, so I’m banished outside.

After a total of 14 hours of travelling, I’m winding down now with a beer, or three, in the hotel bar, at almost 430am. It’s pleasurable, if I block out the amazingly drunk Icelanders who are hanging around, undoubtedly because it’s one of the only bars around that is still open.

Somehow I managed to pack 25kg in my luggage, not including hand luggage. This includes pretty much all of my camera equipment, as tomorrow I shall be taking a trip to see Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights. Tripod, new camera, lenses, all will help me to capture it in all of it’s glory for you, and who knows, I might have some kind of an epiphany?

Getting away from it

I write this from International departures, Terminal 1, Heathrow Airport, London. Late passengers are being called, but I’m just relaxing with a hot Latte from Starbucks, I have over two hours until my flight boards.

The train was delayed, which would have jeopardised my plans had I not given myself 6 hours between leaving Cardiff and take-off time.

Maneouvering my huge luggage case through Paddington station to the Heathrow Express platform was a trip in itself, weaving in and out of the London commuters, trying not to scoop any of them up in the process.

Security at “the world’s busiest airport” was surprising easily passed through, although I’m still not a fan of the ‘remove your shoes’ policy, at least I was allowed to take two bags through and into the cabin with me, and my laptop was allowed to stay in my bag, it’s such a palava taking it out and putting in those trays.

My destination? I’m keeping it a secret for now.
I’m using it as time to get away from life and shall be traveling alone. Perhaps I’ll let you know when I arrive there, later this evening.