Journey back to Toryland.

The bleak cattle shed that is the Easyjet departure “lounge” at Barcelona terminal T2C.
A long day from 9am to 7pm: flight to Barca, endless walk through terminal 1, shuttle bus to T2C for 5 hour wait for onward Sleazyjet flight to Liverpool. The facilites in T2C are some hard seats, expensive vending machines of limp sandwiches and €3 small bottles of water. I sat at an empty table in the “bar” to read, and was accosted by a pompous man who said “my children are sitting here”. I said but there’s no-one here, and the couple at the next table made a show of looking behind chairs and under tables before announcing “nope, none here either”. The man wouldn’t give up, and a small boy appeared from somewhere and glared at me. I sighed and moved to one of the 20 empty tables nearby, from where I watched the family sitting glumly silent for 5 minutes before they went to queue to board a London flight. Finally got on the Liverpool cramped cattle wagon for a hot and bumpy journey with a small child throwing up in the seat behind. The tarmac was flooded and I had to wade from the plane to the terminal, which was full of buckets to catch the rain seeping through the roof. Welcome to Blighty.