HAVE YOU ever had one of those football in the face moments? When your heart drops to your feet quicker than you can say Jesus, Mary and Joseph or mine’s a large vino?
Well, it happened to me last weekend. It could only happen to me really. And Himself, of course.
There we were snoozing away after enjoying the Irish hospitality - and craic - of an all night residents’ bar following my youngest nephew’s wedding in Ireland when I awoke from my beauty sleep to discover it was 9.40am - and our flight back to Blighty was at 10.10am.
What followed was like something from a blockbuster comedy as we shot out of bed, hastily packed our cases and headed off on the 20-minute taxi ride to Shannon Airport only to find when we got there the plane was reversing away from the gate and we had well and truly missed our flight.
It had all started out so well too. I have a tendency to leave everything to the last minute but even so, the day before the wedding I had got the outfit of my dreams - thanks to the lovely Amanda in Eastbourne’s branch of Monsoon - the ankle biters were sorted with godparents, grandparents and aunts and we arrived in the Emerald Isle before the Guinness had the chance to go warm.
For once the sun was splitting the rocks outside, the alcohol was flowing and the wedding went well - too well in fact as it would turn out.
Back to the airport and we found ourselves at the mercy of Ryanair which is never a good position to be in.
There were no more flights to Gatwick that day and in the end we had to fork out more than 200 quid for a flight the following afternoon - an expensive end to an expensive trip.
So if you ever go across the sea to Ireland, take plenty of Euros with you.
Glass of Chardonnay? I can’t even sniff a cork!