Well, it was only a minor odyssey getting back from Berlin last night. We spent 5 seemingly interminable hours in the airport, during which time I felt progressively worse, like I was coming down with the flu or something. So I drank tea, sucked on Ricolas and read Der Spiegel until our flight was finally called.
Then it was a matter of “hurry up and wait”, followed by the usual easyJet stampede of people trying to get seats together on the plane (which Jeremy and I managed to do). Once we’d taken off and the flight attendants were going down the aisle with the snack cart, I heard one of them say, “Nine euros! They all got €9 vouchers out of this—that’s really good” (as in, nine euros is a lot of money, so we really didn’t have anything to complain about). Well, my €9 voucher did buy me a sandwich, a muffin and a bottle of water at the airport, but if I’d had the choice between a €9 voucher and not having to spend 5 hours at Schönefeld, I’m pretty sure I would have chosen the latter option.
Anyway, all’s well that ends well. Instead of waiting an hour at Gatwick for the last train to Brighton at 1:45 am, Jeremy and I hopped in a cab and had a very comfortable, if extremely expensive, ride home, where we immediately collapsed into bed, exhausted—after telling the neighbors to please turn their music down. Ahh, home. I didn’t particularly want to leave Berlin and come back here, but I must admit that it was nice to sleep in my own bed with a good set of pillows (the only complaint I had about the otherwise perfectly lovely Hotel California—besides the incessant playing of the song “Hotel California”—was that you got one miniscule pillow to sleep on).
Now I’m facing a week of so much work that it overwhelms me. But first, I’ll have the weekend to decompress (literally—my sinuses just about exploded when we landed at Gatwick, and even now my ears are a whistling, popping mess), do some laundry and reflect on a really nice week in Berlin.