Compared to Toxteth or Brixton it wasn’t much of a riot but for a bunch of pensioners it was quite impressive.
We spent Friday Morning on a coach tour. It was cold and rainy which in Montreal passes for a nice day. The Mawls (Canadian for shopping centres) are underground to avoid the winter snow and the summer humidity. They are all linked together and connected to the underground railway system. Montreal has a lousy climate, but it’s a good place to be in a Nuclear Holocaust.
In the afternoon, coaches took all the passengers who couldn’t afford the whole 40 day cruise or as we put it ‘had other commitments’ to the airport. International aviation regulations require that airport departures (and security) facilities are only half as big as necessary to allow space for duty free shops. The coaches parked next to a wall and a narrow strip of pavement that was wide enough for the luggage or the passengers but not both at the same time. After some good natured violence we retrieved our cases and joined one of the three queues that had formed in front of the three Fred Olsen check-in desks.
When the queues were nice and long, two check-in girls arrived and informed us that we weren’t allowed to queue in such a scruffy Anglo Saxon way. They insisted on erecting one of those chrome post and tape mazes that would allow us to queue in a stylish French way. We all shuffled backwards into a heaving muttering mass and watched the maze zigzag towards us. Everyone had the same unspoken thought – “where will the new entrance be?”
For those without hearing impairment the click of the last tape in the last post acted like a starting gun. The two check in girls fled for the safety of their desks. The stampede for the new entrance was started by the ones who had been first in the original queues and now faced the unacceptable prospect of being last. Armoured columns pushing luggage trolleys fought with light infantry pulling wheeled suitcases. Walking sticks were wielded by disabled passengers who would have preferred their own parastampede.
When the dust and talcum powder finally settled we found ourselves towards the front of the queue with only minor bruising. Thanks Fred for a memorable end to a memorable holiday.
Dave x
We really missed you for the rest of the holiday. You would have loved the middle section, but the end was a bit more disappointing. We were unable to get into three of the ports and ended up sailing for 7 days in high seas surrounded by depressions. The dreaded gastro virus was cunningly introduced by someone with a grudge in New York and we (along with a couple of hundred others were put into isolation. With that, seasickness and only two Canadian ports and one Irish one, those that got on in New York were less than happy. Poor old 'Me again' was blamed for the weather, the rough seas, the virus - and even the octpus attack. However, Sidney in Nova Scotia, where we did manage to land, was just amazingly beautiful.
ReplyDeleteWill be in touch.