Homeward bound

I spent the morning working on a few things which now won't need doing when I get back, before heading to Malaga Airport on the one o'clock train. Three accordeon toting buskers from Eastern Europe paraded up and down the train playing so badly I would have almost given them money to shut up. The noise they made drowned the station announcements, which are not so easy to hear at the best of times. After a few stops a security guard boarded the train and herded them to a door near the far end of the train, and saw them off a few stops further on. Another guard met the train and seemed to be confiscating one of the accordeon, wheeling it off on its little trolley minus its owner. I guess this must be a regular feature of life in these parts, as train travel is relatively cheap, for someone hoping to recover the cost of their fare by busking through the journey - provided they don't get caught.

The plane was full. It left and arrived punctually. The weather in Cardiff was rainy but ten degrees colder than Malaga. As we dipped beneath the clouds on the final approach to Rhoose, I caught sight of Sully Island, then Barry Island and a slice of our marvellous Jurassic coastal cliffs, just before touching down. Despite the greyness it lifted my spirits, reminding me of flying down Lake Geneva past Nyon, Versiox and Genthod on the descent, crossing over the Bison herd that pastures in the field near the runway lights. That used to feel like arriving home. I'm glad that I can now feel that about flying into Cardiff Wales Airport. Thank you Vueling for the pleasure.