Gripes

Hey, it wouldn’t be a holiday without a few whinges. Here’s mine.

Being pestered. This happened twice. First time by a guy called ‘Paul’ who stopped us on the seafront to ask us a couple of very quick questions. Before we knew it we’d done a short survey, won a bottle of wine and a hoiday, had our ages changed, been living together for two years and were stood inside a travel agents preparing to spend an hour picking a holiday destination. Oh, he was good! Years of being polite stopped me from just telling him to p*ss off even tho it sounded dodgy right from the start – must work on that…

Second time was by a taxi driver trying to get us into his cab before a bus came. As the bus got closer (it was waiting for people getting off a ferry to board) he got increasingly more desparate, telling us it was full or lowering his price (to only 10 times the price of the bus) etc.. His best line “My taxi is very pretty, just like your lovely girlfriend”.

Last and probably worst, Luton airport. Our flight got in at 11:30pm, we were tired and we still faced a couple of hours to get back to the car and then drive home. At that time of night we expected to breeze through and be on our way in no time. Yeah, not in England buddy! We had to join a queue of about five hundred other people waiting at passport control and queue for around 30 mins to get through as they only had two people on the desks. If I wasn’t so tired I would have been well p*ssed off!

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