Croissant and a pint

After a very early drive tHeathrow, I knew I started a holiday with Phil when he ordered a pint at 8:29 in the morning. The efficiency of Terminal 5 never ceases to amaze me, why can't all regional airports get in right? It's as though they like to see us in long queues, holding up trousers becuase out belts, laptop, shoes, keys, change and jewllery is in the black box going through the scanner.

To complete a random morning, we then went to Wagamama's for breakfast, or second breakfast for me. Strangely coconut porride and chilli jam really works. Never thought I'd say that in life.

There is something quite proud to fly to British Airways. I had two choices, to travel easyjet from Luton, only 39 minutes from home but land somewhere in the middle of nowhere, where they claim it is in Istanbul but could be in Greece for the distance you have to travel...or to travel British airways. You can guess which I chose, if only for the allocated seat and feel meal and drinks. There is something quite refreshing about not queuing and elbowing people to get to the right seat. However, have you ever noticed that it's always quite a surprise to people when they get on a flight, and then they hold up the whole queue while they get their book out of their luggage? You would have thought they would know. Maybe it's becuase I'm a girl guide. Phil didn't have this quandry, his only luggage was two history books of Istanbul and his luggage was a bit of a mystery as he packed it in a drunken state last night and doesn't actually know what he packed. It later transpired that he packed 5 jumpers, 3 t-shirts, 2 pairs of shorts and 2 pairs of trousers...in 30 degree heat. This is nothing like being prepared.

Being picked up from the airport was a luxury, I've always wanted to have my name written on a sign. However, I wasn't prepared for the 200 or so taxi drivers outside arrivals with names of signs. Phil didn't let me down, while he was saying 'where's mine', I followed the same tactic as always. If he says that, it's cos it's really close and probably right behind him. And it was.

What he said was called in Hotel Ibizia is actually called something completely different, I'm so glad I spent ages trying to find Hotel Ibizia on google to no avail.

Dinner resembled sitting in the window display of Habitat eating mezze and smoking a 'water pipe'. A 4 hour meal over conversation and smelling the strawberry sent of the smoke, listening to the 'call to prayer'. We have definitly landed in Istanbul.