Moving day, and as so often it begins before dawn. One advantage is that it’s well before morning rush hour when we catch the bus at quarter past six. The tube isn’t packed yet either. In fact on both bus and train we see the unusual sight of a man rolling a cigarette. Takes some skill on a bumpy ride.
We’re on time at Heathrow - in fact early. Unfortunately our plane isn’t. Will be leaving three-quarters of an hour late. Which means that the nice man who checks us in is busy rebooking what had been a very tight connection in Istanbul. Moves an 18:20 flight to 21:50. Fortunately a WhatsApp message to the unflappable Ozy of Ozy’s Taxi brings the immediate response “All confirmed. Many thanks”.
Gone are the times when flight days meant no exercise. Good twenty minute walk to the departure gate when it is finally announced. It’s a big plane - Boeing 777 300ER. Can’t remember the seat map but when we find our seats they do indeed bear my signature - in an economy section consisting almost entirely of banks of three, they’re a cosy twosome. And Turkish Airways food and entertainment significantly better than Air Canada (all right - admittedly a low bar). Wine is fine too. Have both Turkish and French. For my taste the Turkish slightly better.
Long wait, obviously, at Istanbul, arguably the biggest airport in the world. (Well there are a number of ways of measuring size). Flight just over an hour from Istanbul to North Cyprus, but a hot sandwich and no nonsense about the flight being too short to serve it. No queues at immigration, no wait for luggage. (I’m Piaget’s baby - when the suitcases disappear I never truly expect to see them again and am unreasonably pleased when they emerge onto the carousel). And driver with Ozy’s outside with a sign.
Not too much traffic congestion as it’s now well past 23:00. Driver efficient. And how DOES he know which bits of road are a ticketing risk and which not. And home shortly after midnight. Long day.