Homeward Bound

I'm sitting in a railway station, got a ticket for my destination, as yer man said. Okay, Mr Simon, close enough. I'm actually here in the Ata Lagoon Hotel in Oludeniz, at the foot of Mount Babadag, Turkey, with said ticket and a heap of baggage enough to build our own mountain. Paraglider pilots don't travel especially light. There's your wing itself, for a start, a harness to sit in and a reserve parachute. Then there's your flight suit (gets cold up there) helmet, variometer, GPS, camera, camera boom, VHS radio, headsets etc. Plus your normal luggage which, as well as clothes (2xT-shirts/socks/pants) nowadays includes laptop, tablet, smart phone, normal phone, normal camera, Kindle, plus all the chargers and adaptors. You get the picture...

Any old hoo, we now have the unenviable task of hoicking all that crap through Turkish security and the UK border controls during a ten-hour gruelling epic of transfer from hotel, Dalaman airport, four-and-a-half-hour flight, Manchester airport and the drive home to Brum. Then work tomorrow. Oh, dear readers, don't you worry about old Batsby. By the time I've endured the incessant chatter of the crowded bus, the aimless meandering of brainless morons in the airport and the excruciating wait to be readmitted to the country of my birth I will be fully back to my vitriolic self, ready to blog in anger once again!

So, keep the faith; Mr Nice Guy will be well and truly out the window and we can get back to business as usual. In the meantime, have a lovely picture of the bay.

See you back in Blighty!