From Kingston to Mallorca - Thursday 12th October 2017

Today is “Potter in Kingston” day, one I always enjoy and ensure I do every time I've come to stay with Jill and Peter through the years. 

I browse the shops, stop and have a coffee and tuna sandwich for lunch, wander past market stalls selling fresh and CHEAP produce, and relish being out and about in brilliant sunshine. It is hot. I do not need my jacket and the shops full of winter clothes seem incongruous to this beautiful sunny summery day in October. 

Kingston = Medieval meets Mall; it’s River meets Retail; it’s Cafe meets Corner pub. Time and place collide in a relaxed and wonderful way. 

Kingston shopping area

After hours of pottering (I could have spent many more), I return to base and pack my small case ready for Mallorca. Peter arrives home and we leave for Gatwick airport. We are meeting Jill there. We are off to Mallorca where Jill and Peter have a house (in Mollinar, not far from Palma). 

Peter has decided to use a new Park and Ride facility; the instructions are confusing and the route a perplexing one that doesn’t seem to make sense. We take a few wrong turns. It wastes precious time and is not what we need. I’m sure if we’d been Husband and Wife we would have had at least six arguments and half a dozen stand-offs en route ... but we are not, and therefore we do not. We are focussed on the solution - finding the Purple Parking place - and I placate Peter along the way.  "It's okay, we'll make it," I say even though I am not convinced of this. He is definitely not convinced of it at all. Eureka, finally we find the Purple Parking place that we've been searching for!

We arrive and by the time we sort the details, we just miss the shuttle bus to the terminal, dammit. More delay. We wait for the next shuttle bus, but not particularly patiently. Peter is really anxious now. More placating is required. Jill is waiting for us. 

Once at the terminal we check in and head to security. Jill texts us; she  is already at the gate. We are late!

There are no other passengers in the security area; this flight to Palma is the last of the night and Peter and I are the absolute tail-enders. To be frank, this is how I usually travel - being last rather than first, by design. No one much understands it but I have no desire to spend a minute more at an airport than I absolutely have to. This is not how Peter likes to approach travel.

Oh crikey, I am beeping, I have to remove my shoes. I have my very first full body scan in one of those machines. Stand here, arms up; they look through me, scrutinise the information. Nothing suspicious, I can go. I rush forward, hoping I haven’t held Peter up too much but I discover he is having his bag searched on account of some liquids not being in a plastic bag.

Despite retaining us both for inspection, the security people are now telling us to hurry, our flight is leaving soon. Yes, we know this, you are delaying us! OMG, now it turns out that we have both inadvertently left our boarding passes in the trays and we have to race back to find them. Can anything else go awry!?

We hurry through to the boarding gate where Jill awaits us. All three of us are frazzled and hungry (maybe hangry!?), not to mention in need of a wine (is that called wangry?) 

Jill had had to scurry to get her train from Victoria and we had these pesky delays we hadn’t banked on. It was all a bit of a pre-holiday nightmare - the sort of thing we all try to avoid when heading off for fab times. 

In all reality, we should have started the trip by sipping a pre-take-off wine in the airport bar but there is no time for that. We board our Easyjet flight. We order wine. The holiday has begun.

The flight passes quickly, thanks to food, wine and convivial chat, mixed with the inevitable sense of anticipation. And laughs. The travel prep issues have, thankfully, dissipated. 

We touch down at Palma airport around 1am, hop in a taxi and arrive at Jill and Peter’s house. Spread over three stories and with a roof terrace, it is spacious and gracious. There is a lovely garden/patio area with jacuzzi. They have done a great renovation job and the place has that easy lived-in feel that encourages relaxation.

I visited Mallorca 9 years ago with Jill and Peter and had a fabulous time ... it’s great to be back and this time to have the pleasure and privilege to stay in their own home in Mollinar.

At 2am we drink bubbles to celebrate our arrival. Wine flows and, before we know it, the clock says 5am! It is time for bed. I sleep very well indeed in the downstairs boudoir.

OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:

Seriously ... seasons are bonkers. There I am in London in mid-October and it is boiling. The shops are full of winter coats and woollies. It makes no sense. It is far too hot to wear my coat. I wish I’d worn a summer dress. I swelter all day. 

Back home in Auckland springtime, it has done nothing but rain, hail, howl a gale ... for months. Horrific weather. We actually had the heating on the day before I left. That is not Spring. It’s a nightmare. 

As I haven’t seen a full day of blue sky at home in months, it was such a pleasure to sit on a bench in the sun in London and indulge in the curious art of people-watching. With sunglasses on. Because I really needed them. And sweating at the same time. 

In Mallorca, I get the sense we will have perfect stable Mediterranean weather every day ... I’ll find out soon enough.