14:26–17:35 Cleethorpes–Manchester Airport
… The taxi arrived a little early and Janet wasn’t quite ready.… It was the taxi driver of 19 Jan. 2014 and before that 22 Dec. 2013. (In both instances, I assumed he was “Indian”.) He had a little model of a tuk-tuk on the dashboard. He is, in fact, Iranian, and when we spoke of Mehran,[i] how his father was executed for his adherence to the Baha’i faith, he said “That’s me!” for that’s what happened to his father — and that’s why 35 years ago he came here. He dislikes all religion now, especially Islam. After a wait in the waiting room and on the platform, the driver entered the train and we were allowed to board.… Not all the wheatfields were harvested. Again there was what looked like Indian corn in a number of fields, though the plants weren’t all that tall, and I didn’t see any corn-cobs. The train filled up at the stations we stopped at; indeed, from Sheffield there were people standing. In the Peak District there was the purple of heather on some of the hilltops, especially so when the sun came out of the clouds. Most of the track-side rosebay willowherbs had some or all of the purple flowers replaced by “cotton wool” (the silky hairs of the seeds that aid wind dispersal). On arrival at Manchester Airport station we quickly boarded a “bomber” taxi and were taken to the Premier Inn (Runger Lane South). We checked in at reception. There was an immediate booking available in the restaurant. We booked the shuttle tomorrow at 4.00am. We went up the room,… then we went down to the restaurant. Service was a bit slow. Janet had lasagne and I had one of their huge “New Yorker” pizzas. She had a Pepsi Diet and I a pint of San Miguel. I had a second one later.… …Back up in the room.… [I] made myself a cup of coffee… [and] finished updating this account. Shut down (21:25) and went to bed.
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]