So much for the flurry of posts about packing and planning for our forthcoming Morocco trip…Those posts became yet another casualty of my inability to plan effectively, as did the in-depth preparation for the Moroccan Adventure. To be frank, our preparation began at 10:00 PM, with the flight out being the next day. But, for any of those vaguely interested in the preparation and planning behind this trip, this is it in quickie format for those of you with busy lives:-

Passport – Check! 10 PMWashbag – Check! 10:10 PM

First Aid/Insurance/Travel Docs – Check! 10:30 PM

Laptop and Leads – Check! 10:45 PM

Books – Check! 11 PM

Adequate clothing – ‘Too tired, so skip for now’

Currency/Traveller’s Cheques – ‘Too tired, so skip for now’

Torch/Maps/Miscellaneous Handy Bits – ‘OK, a quick break first. Eeeeeeee, this beds comfy…’

Someone once said ‘Sleep now and see what tomorrow brings’ or something vaguely similar (facts aren’t my strong point). Sagelike wisdom? No, because when you snooze I’ll tell you what tomorrow brings – It brings on an extremely vicious anxiety attack between Victoria Coach Station and Stanstead Airport as, with such a ridiculous distance between the two points, you could be forgiven for thinking that you will still be on the motorway – probably somewhere just beyond Carlisle - when your fucking plane takes off.

London Stanstead? Stanstead Airport is not London, it’s north of London. A buggering long way north of London. In fact, if it was any further North and we’d have been swapping busses for skidoos and dodging reindeer. It really did seem a long way.‘I just didn’t think it would be this far out’ I said - although the same could so easily have been said by a Parish Vicar after sprinkling Ketamine on his cornflakes.

We thanked the travel gods again as, had we not made such good time so far, this hiccup would have cost us the flight. Today, however, was a good day. We were on a winning streak, and I felt that at this particular moment I could have walked a 1000 miles barefoot and blindfolded and still completed the journey without any trace of dogshit between my toes. It’s true that some things will always be out of our control, and it’s a fact that one day I hope to accept. Other things, though, are worthy of consideration as we do have some influence over them, and in planning the journey to Morocco we took into account many factors. Our calculations were based on numerous complex variables - variables such as where I had imagined Stanstead Airport to actually be. Alas, it wasn’t where I had first thought. Learning of this, I felt shaken. Shaken because, as a rule, I’m never wrong. Maybe I was wrong this time, but who can deny the very real possibility that Stanstead Airport may actually have been relocated recently…perhaps due to a rabbit infestation….or some similar such thing.

Anyway, enough of the moaning about “London Stanstead” Airport, even if its title is deceitful and riddles with lies.

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