27 April - Shannon & Venice

If further proof was needed that the neurons are dying. I was rescued at top of the ramp level on a plane to Shannon at Stansted. I had no intention of going to Shannon. I had been waiting patiently to board a flight to Venice and when they called it, I thought I'd go to the loo.

Clearly there are 2 diametrically opposite entrances to this loo, because I must have come out the opposite way to the one I entered and since I had no doubt I was facing the original direction and there was a queue boarding, that's the one I joined, never once bothering to look at the screen again since I thought I was in front of gate 46 as indeed had been. But oh no. I was now in front of gate 43 or some such and proceeded unaware till their little cheques revealed the impostor. And thank god for that as I can't think of what I'd do in Shannon apart from going to bed and pondering on the alzheimer.

Yes am stressed but...