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I thought about those Brexit holidaymakers who complain to Thomas Cook that the local people in Spain only spoke Spanish and that it was hotter than in Brexitland. I wonder why they don't stay at home. The younger males were in gangs, loud, dressed in beachwear and already drunk.
I was then informed that the plane to Amsterdam had been cancelled because they could not close the aircraft door. I was told it was a rather old plane and it was not a new problem. After six hours of waiting I gave up. I changed the booking to Friday, called Barbara and left the holiday louts to drink even more.
Barbara duly picked me up and we celebrated with Fish 'n Chips at Harry Ramsden's. She also took me back to the airport on Friday and this time KLM was able to move the metal, but it was also a small and old plane. I returned to Berlin okay and have been settling in today. This means shopping for food, cleaning, washing, picking up lots of messages and sorting my next few weeks out.
Here is an image of people who clearly escaped such a fate by walking home. I would have done the same but I had the English Channel to cross!
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