OCCUPIED COUNTRY

Crying in the Chapel

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

The wedding of Youngest and Youngest’s Darlin’ was all that anyone could have wished for. (Well, an added bonus would have been the ability of the Grandparents of the Groom to have made it, but, life’s like that I guess).

Around thirty friends and family made the trip to Zell-am-See with four of us stopping off in Salzburg for a few days sightseeing and getting wet through.

But before we arrived in Austria we had to endure Manchester Airport on full security alert. Scrumptious! First of all we were advised that, apart from essentials (passport, cash etc.,.) all valuables would have to put into hold baggage. Then we were advised to get to the airport at least two hours before we normally would. ie. Four hours before the flight instead of two.

So, that’s what we did. 9:00am we arrived. For a 1:00pm flight. Plenty of time we thought. Half an hour or so to book in, then the long wait in the security queues waiting to have our important little places prodded and probed by those that enjoy such things. Sorted.

Except it wasn’t and we weren’t – sorted I mean. Because the Airline didn’t open their counters until TWO HOURS before departure. Pricks. So, a pleasant time was spent by all, forlornly slouched over suitcases imagining missed flights due to the enhanced measures we knew we had to face once we got to the departure lounge. No explanation for the incorrect information we had received from the inadequate fuckers. No apology. Nothing but blank-faced bureaucratic customer-facing business-speak-bollox all dressed up in the new-found finery of “security”.

We did catch the plane eventually and endured quite a pleasant-ish flight before touching down in Salzburg around 4:30pm. Time for the holiday to begin.

Two hours later and we’re still stood round the baggage carousel waiting for two suitcases that we knew were not going to appear. A woman from another party was waiting for three parcels that she had witnessed being put on the correct baggage trolley back in Manchester. That’s five items missing from one flight. A flight that wasn’t even full. And to make matters worse Eldest’s bag contained the wedding suits for both Eldest and the Groom. And to make matters even worse than worse, Eldest’s bag contained his new camera, mobile and iPod.

Three days of frantic attempts to sort out more suits and get them out to Austria ensued before the missing luggage turned up – minus the new camera, mobile and iPod. Apparently theft was rife around the airports of Britain. Ain’t it nice to know that in times of adversity whereas most will rally round and help each other, there are those who view such times as opportunities to line their own pockets.

Another, and more important, aspect of this whole business lies in the fact that our baggage was tampered with AFTER it had gone through its security checks. Now, as far I am concerned, if you can take something out of a bag, you can also put something in it – can’t you? Or am I just being thick? Either way – it makes a mockery of the whole “security” situation.

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But enough grouching – justified or otherwise. The wedding itself was magnificent. The Bride glowed, the Groom smiled and the best man didn’t embarrass too many with his speech. A good friend of the couple who couldn’t be there turned up in the shape of a life-size cardboard cut out which was later taken round the flesh pots of Zell-am-See with hilarious consequencies. (That sounds like the blurb from some woeful sitcom).

Austria is just too beautiful. It’s the first time I’ve been, but I’ll be back.

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And so I returned to see City carry on where they left off last season with yet another loss. I had determined that I wasn’t going to renew my season ticket this year. It was to be my little protest against the rampant commercializing of the game (and club) I love. “The pockets of greedy swine like (enter name of player of your choice) will not be swelled by any of my hard earned cash” I said.

My ticket arrived at the end of July and I’ll once again be sat in my usual seat this Wednesday as David James has the game of his life against his old club.

I’m a man of steel me. A man of steel I tells yer!