Day 1 Greenport

Day 1 - His. So we are here. It took only 22 hours and to be honest my overriding impression of the journey is a sore backside. We  had an offer of a lift to the airport but feeling a little guilty about asking someone to drive that far we decided to take a coach. I suppose it was due to the South American experience, where there coaches are truly fantastic - well, at least in my memory the coaches were truly fantastic - something akin to a cunard liner but on the road. So, it seemed like a good idea. Of course things that seem like a good idea at the time are rarely so in reality and true to form the actual experience of four hours on a coach trogging our way to Heathrow was less of a necessary life experience than i had thought. It wouldn't have been so bad except we then had to follow the coach trip by several hours of airflight on an iceland air shuttle. The seats were hard, cramped and cold. Everything was charged for including the blankets and earphones. It was clear that some people were more prepared for this than we were. The woman we sat next to was a bit of an old hand. The moment we sat down she opened her hand luggage and pulled out a blanket, pillow, earphones and two course dinner complete with a small bottle of wine. She smiled at us as she tucked in, made herself comfortable and settled down for the flight. I thought it was a little over prepared until we were two hours into the flight, when, to be honest, i was just plain jealous. The flight was in two legs - london to iceland ( I can't spell Rekjavik so i'm not going to try i'm just going to call it iceland instead. I think it's a property of the icelandic language - the only way top speak it properly is if you are gargling with a mouthful of hot coal - far too many weird letter combinations.) anyway we went London to Iceland a two hour stop over in iceland then iceland to new york. At Iceland we were told there was a smoking lounge, which was kind pf cool except it was on the other side of passport control - so we crept up to the immigration officers and asked them to let us sneak through to the smoking lounge. I have the natural aversion every traveller should have to immigration officials and live in fear of them dragging me off to a little room to be strip searched. Patti, however is a little more robust when it comes to immigration, so she bounced to up the glass box smiled sweetly and the bull like creature behind the glass actually smiled, nodded and let us through. Several cigarettes later and a quick try of several moose skin hats we rejoined the flight. The seats of the plane were that faux leather type that six hours of sweating and squirming will firmly weld you into so the flight attendants went round and peeled us all out when we landed and let us go. Blessed relief. Only a few more hours and we will be: there. I truly believe the Americans have raised the skill of sandwich making to an art form. Reluctant to spend $20 on a fish finger we had chosen to wait until we landed to eat. So after only 20 hours of nothing to eat and nothing to drink but our own sweat we really needed a coffee, a cigarette and maybe a sandwich. terminal 7 of JFK is a little place armed only with a costa coffee and subway. Sort of expecting the English interpretation of a sandwich offered by subway in England i wasn't too hopeful. But as I said earlier American sandwiches have to be seen to be believed. They are truly fantastic concoctions of meat, vegetables and the kind of sauces that make your mouth water just thinking about. Anyway, we ate, smoked, drank and feeling much more human we went to get our car. I think the moral of this story is - if you are going to travel bucket class with iceland air bring a blanket, some earphones and your own lunch. Patti and I have been coming here together for something like 12 years, obviously Patti has been coming here a lot longer but it has been something like 12 years together.  The first year we were picked from the airport by Patti's father, the second year, Patti drove and every year after I have driven. So, we have got it to a bit of a fine art. We know exactly where we are going, we know what the car hire company want and we know which side of the road to drive on. Non of this seems like a particular skill until you meet someone who doesn't know any of this. The best place to meet people who don't know any of this is in car hire places in airports where you can be pretty much guaranteed to meet tired confused men holding maps upside down while children cry and anxious mothers try to work out the ez pass. I feel particularly sorry for these guys when we join the nightmare that is the main traffic around new york in rush hour. Drivers in New York seem to have their own driving code. Mostly, it consists of driving too fast, driving too close and slamming on their brakes as often as possible, especially when they are in front of you and especially while hitting the horn. I like to settle into a steady 40 miles an hour and keep as much as possible to the middle lane. This really seems to upset them. It's a petty revenge kind of thing I know - but it amuses me. Two hours of driving east from the city will bring you the sea. It's pretty much the furthest you can go from the city by car, without needing a ferry and that's where Patti's parents live. We arrived about eleven, swigged a gallon or two of Folgers coffe and collapsed into bed.