I had to move to Heathrow for my last London evening as I had an early flight to Madrid the following day. I had acquired a carry-on bag at John Lewis on Oxford St so I repacked my suitcase and dragged it on the Tube to a bodega near Paddington Station who will mind it for me for a week whilst I am on a Martin Randall cultural tour to the art galleries of Madrid.
There were no shenanigans on this Iberian flight. I sat in my ‘middle’ seat and listened to an audio book.
Madrid’s airport is huge and new – puts ours to shame, and now that I have my Europe entry approval all sorted, I whisked through immigration, unlike in Amsterdam.
I met up with tour group, Linda our leader and subsequently Claudia, our expert, who is a fine arts professor from Edinburgh University, plus 14 travellers, including me and another couple from Melbourne who live a couple of streets away from the vicarage in Brighton. Small world.
Our hotel is very nice and easy walking distance to several art galleries. My room is internal, with an entry sunroom overlooking a light well (quite pleasant and an internal bedroom (which protects from street noise (quite a bonus others tell me),
Father M 