Desigual

The only picture I took today was of a new concession in Mahon airport - my favourite brand with dippy hippy colours and mad designs. I may have acquired a cheeky little new handbag (at 10€ off the usual exorbitant price, a steal). I had booked a coach ticket from Manchester airport to Liverpool, for a journey which was scheduled for 30 mins after the plane was due to land. This of course was the source of much anxiety, and to give myself a fighting chance of getting through passport control near the start of the up-to-40-minute queue I had paid extra for a seat near the front of the plane. The pilot taxied for what seemed like miles to the gate, the doors remained closed for ages while waiting for permission to disembark, it took ages to get through the many corridors and twists and turns of the huge building, and my new chipped passport was rejected by the scanner. Finally free of security, I had to get to the coach terminal at the other end of the airport, delayed by a lift which wouldn't work and a series of moving walkways which were immobilised in order for a lightbulb to be changed halfway along. At least I assume that is the explanation for the lone stepladder below an open light fitting, watched at a distance by a workman eating a pasty. I'd forgotten that the English work ethic is completely opposite to that of the Spanish. I finally got to the coach stop within a minute of the appointed time, in a panic, where I waited for the coach which was running late.
Once in Liverpool city centre, I was seduced into looking in some of the shops, as the big stores are not available where I now live. In John Lewis I soon entered a shopping fugue state, which happens when confronted with too much noise, colour, people and goods of all varieties. Breaking out of this with some difficulty, I made my way to the tube station for the last leg of the journey home. As tonight was "Light Night" in Liverpool, I had originally planned to go back into town after dropping off my luggage, to see the street spectacles and late-opening public buildings and galleries. However, fighting my way through the early hordes tanking up on alcohol the better to enjoy the evening to come, and being amazed by the sight od a procession of "Karaoke Tuc Tucs" blaring out pop anthems and full of exuberant Scousers, I decided to just go home and rest up, texting #2 son to ask him to put the kettle on. He was out at the gym.