The alarm went off at 4.30am. Rooms checked out of, we collected our breakfast bags from the nice (tired) receptionist and we were ready to go home.
The taxi arrived at 5.15am which was terrifying because we expected it at 5.00am. The taxi driver needed a wee when he arrived, but then entertained us all the way to the airport with excellent stupid tourist stories. Americans and Germans don’t seem to have made themselves popular in general, although obviously he has met some lovely individuals. He had been asked to drive some Americans straight from the the airport to the volcano and refused as they were wearing crocs and shorts!
He was a big football fan and had been to many British football grounds. He was momentarily disappointed to realise that we weren’t, but Keith managed to maintain a conversation. He asked whether we remembered the England, Iceland match in 2016 in France. He said that 35,000 Icelandic people attended… which is 9.5% of the population!!!
He told us a bit about the Icelandic school system: 10 years in primary school (in local schools) and then 3 or 4 in secondary schools that they probably had to travel to. About 60% of Icelandic children go on to secondary school and half of those go onto further education. Reykjavik has two universities. There are vocational secondary schools as well that seem to work like our apprenticeships as they work for at least a year with a company before they gain qualification.
The airport was very busy, but clever Keith found automated check-in and automated bag drop and we whizzed through to security. This was straightforward too – apart from Danny being put on a step like a naughty child to have a lolly stick put up his sleeve to test for firearms residue, drugs or whatever else he shouldn’t have been touching!
We filled our water bottles and bought coffees to sustain us and then went to the gate. The lady working there did not help the queueing situation: anyone who hadn’t been through a check-in desk with a person (like us) was told to go to the front of the queue. Sadly it was a scrum, so it wasn’t clear where the front was. We tried to walk forwards, only to be accosted by an older British man who told a British woman near him that he found that highly unlikely when she repeated the instruction she had been given. Evidence that everyone was a bit tired and emotional. (EDIT: Keith – I offered a suitably sarcastic comment in response to his pathetic “let’s block them” comment. Yes, he really did say that….we spend 2 weeks in Icelandic with nothing but polite, generous people then arrive at the airport to meet a Brit who was rude, ignorant and generally stupid. Ashamed to be British sometimes).
It turned out to be true – to get back into the UK, an actual human had to see our passports and boarding passes. That meant that about half the flight had to queue up and go through the check-in process we skipped by doing the automated route earlier. Deep joy! Strangely enough the plane didn’t leave without us and after everyone had finally got on, we joined the plane queue and took off. Danny was worried about the wind – which was about 30mph – and we did go up pretty steeply, but it made our journey a lot quicker on the way home – 2 hours 10 minutes compared with 3 hours 50 minutes!
The kids sat a long way behind us, so we didn’t hear a peep out of them all flight. The toddler kicking my chair for two hours reminded me how glorious it is to travel with teenagers!
Manchester was full of people, but apart from that, entirely easy and very fast: security was easy (fast track well worth it – although the border guard did make Danny sign his psssport!!) the bags came out pretty much first, the car collection was super easy and the traffic was fine.
I managed to rustle up cupboard lunch for everyone and Keith fetched a very giddy Moss back from the kennels. It is official: we are home and the holiday is over.