HEATHROW HELL

Why oh why? I asked myself, did I pack everything but the kitchen sink in my carry-on cases. Didn't I know from experience that Heathrow Airport is referred to in aviation circles as 'Hell'. My sentiments precisely. Unfortunately, I could not bypass HH and on Saturday last, I found myself slap bang in the middle of Security in this Hell Hole of an airport.

"Is this yours madam?" the bristly voiced, steely eyed beeeatch of an aiport official asked me, staring at my poor innocent bag. "Yes" I replied, "and the khaki coloured bag too, and the beige patterned bag, and the grey tray with the jewellery and make up bags..." I added, pointing to my messy last-minute packing. I could see her curse under her breath. This was going to be a LONG session. Hell yes!

"Over here madam" she ordered, directing me to a table where they bring the gangsters and the druggies. One by painful one she went through every single thing in my bags with her magic wand. "What time is your flight?" she asked, knowing this was going to take FOREVER! I should have lied, but I couldn't, and innocently replied "Ah, not until 4.00 p.m." so we have ages left to play I thought to myself - four hours in fact. Maybe, subconsciously, I was just trying to kill time...though I doubt it!

Thank God I had put all my soiled clothing in the suitcase, otherwise, it would have been really humiliating. Ms. steely eyes looked at the two loaves of McCambridge's brown bread I had packed for Kevin. I glared at her as if to say "Don't you dare!" Thankfully she let it pass. She had her beady eyes on all my liquids, especially my lovely new bottle of Massimo Duti perfume from Milan. By the time she had finished, the table was full of all my bits and bobs. "I'm a dreadful packer" I said to her, trying to elicit some clue that she was in fact a humanoid, and not a robot, as I suspected.

After nearly an hour, the baton wielding beeeatch holds a sandwich bag in her hand and tells me I'm only allowed to fill that with my liquids, and nothing more. As I looked at the tray full of my lotions and potions I knew that would be a miracle, similar to the loaves and fishes. I began to protest, and told her how I had just passed through security at Dublin Airport (an airport familiar with bombs) and they had no problem with my stuff which was placed in plastic bags, and even wished me a pleasant journey. "Sorry Madam, but this is OUR policy". There was clearly no room for negotiation here. 'Fine' I said, like a defiant kid "I'll choose the most expensive to replace". There was a man standing beside me on gangster row with an amused grin on his face. O.K. for him, he doesn't have to wear make up or nail polish or perfume...!!

I took Massimo out of his perfume box and put him in the bag, next some Lancome mascara, followed by my most expensive skin creams. I had to kiss goodbye to 6 bottles of OPI nail polish and nail hardener and cuticle conditioner, my holy water bottle from Lourdes, toothpaste, skin cleanser, toner, shampoo, conditioner, some soothing body lotions which Claudia gave me - one to calm (ironic) and one to aid sleep. They were half empty anyway. She took all my lip glosses, but allowed me keep my lipsticks - that defies logic. Next she took a bottle of dry hair powder. I had to explain to her it wasn't a liquid and began to take some powder out - krazeee stuff going on here!

FINALLY, I was free to go!! Do I look like a terrorist? I sure left Security feeling like one!!

Lesson of the Day:  DO NOT TRAVEL THROUGH HEATHROW ...unless you have to.

If you have to... DO NOT BRING ANYTHING WITH YOU ...Only a smile!

I'm home now Thank God - safe and sound and all my travelling is behind me - For now!! Next I must brace myself for huge Home Renovations - HELL ...  Agh!!

Talk Soon,

Love,

Patricia xxx