A highly eventful journey home from Nairobi, mostly for unwelcome reasons.

The highlight of the day was the Java Coffee House at the airport, complete with huge breakfast burrito and tall latte. This was after incompetent taxi transfers and the various security paraphernalia at Nairobi airport. Since the Westgate incident in 2013 the city has been on higher alert against terrorism. It's the only airport I can remember where anyone entering the airport complex has to get out of their vehicle and walk through a separate security scanner, with some cursory searches done on vehicles. It all looks like a big toll road plaza.

On the plane an argument broke out between a gobby northern woman and the sour-faced Cockney in front who wouldn't straighten up her seat during the meal. Various others chipped in to point out usual cabin etiquette, and I may have been one of them. Gobby was in the right, and this isn't just because she used the word 'duck' as a term of endearment (turned out she was from Nottinghamshire).

A family occupying the row in front had a young daughter who howled for nearly nine hours and they had very little interest in distracting her. Sitting with Laura and Michelle (mercifully), our row didn't have functioning entertainment systems so ears were bleeding by the time we landed in London.

After everyone getting ready to disembark we were seated again and the border police boarded and promptly arrested the sour-faced woman, not before she had had a dig at the state of my fingernails (fair point). She went willingly and we speculated she was involved in the illegal wildlife trade, as conservationists are wont to do.

As we walked to passport control, a delightfully serene toddler was smiling at me beautifully as his mother carried him, and I wish he'd been the one on the seat in front. At passport control an old man was loitering next to the electronic gates wittering about the direction to collect luggage. Jess calmly explained the passport control system.

At the luggage carousel sour-faced woman was flanked by two policemen who had to temporarily break up another argument between a Kenyan woman and a British man, about who was standing where to collect bags. It was a ridiculous scene although had been stoked by the Kenyan. The guy understandably reacted, swore, and was told by one of the policemen that if he swore again he'd be arrested for a public order offence. He left fuming, rightly.

We were all exceedingly glad to clamber into the taxi and head towards Cambridge. As we exited the Arrivals hall the Kenyan woman was still ranting to her long-suffering son that she'd taught the British guy a lesson by speaking up. I shot him a sympathetic look.

Sign in or get an account to comment.