Its Friday 4.30pm and I sit in the departure lounge at Charles de Gaul Airport Paris France, the week has been a challenge, a succession of meetings and presentations has resulted in lower budgets and higher targets, dinner last night was a take out and I’ve not seen the kids since Tuesday. Once on the plane I settle down with a scotch and soda, just as I begin to sense a note of that Friday feeling and the joy of seeing Jane and the children I contemplate my impending arrival at
You can fly thousands of miles around the world without a hitch and perfectly to schedule, yet the 60 mile trip from
Will the chauffeur be there on time? Will the car be there at all? or of course if it is there and on time will I want my Armani suit to come in to contact with those seats?
If it’s the guy I had last time he looked like he had changed a tyre on the way to collect me and I had the pleasure of listening to his jaw muscles all the way home, he was either giving his opinion on everything or chewing gum, in fact the heavy metal music he had on the radio would have been a welcome rest for my ears. Oh well, Sophia on reception promised me faithfully she would not book them again, and at least I’m going home, in fact coming in to land already?
15 minutes early so I suppose I’ve got to wait for the infernal car anyway. Typical, there’s my bag, got it already just because I’m early and got to wait anyway. Guess ill get a coffee or something, but then as I turn the corner of the arrivals area I see a very official looking gentleman in a security type uniform standing very upright with a sign, he stands out amongst an eclectic mix of taxi drivers and chauffeurs all displaying various bits of card with scribble on, and it would seem each responsible for supporting part of the pedestrian barrier.
Hewkin Executive MORGAN boldly printed on the sign I wonder if that’s me or not and cautiously acknowledge the chauffeur “Good Evening Mr Morgan can you just confirm your destination for me?”, “Stafford” I reply, “this way then sir, can I take any luggage for you?” he questions. Quite unusual I don’t think I’ve ever had a driver that’s been uniformed in that way, we walk out of the terminal and over to the car park, and it’s a beautiful black Chrysler 300c Executive Saloon, mmm nice car, never travelled in one of those, the driver opens the door for me then loads my case in to the boot before closing my door for me he points to the door pockets of the car “there is mineral water in the door pockets for you sir”, “thank you” I reply and the chauffeur closes the door. I am I must say quietly impressed it looks like the car has just been delivered from the dealer, it is spotless, the mineral water is carefully placed in the door pockets with a red napkin wrapped diagonally around the bottle in a very precise and consistent fashion, red and black seems to be the theme. The chauffeur gets in and turns to me briefly “Any preference for the radio sir?”, mmm , actually radio 2 would be good make a change to listen something of interest “Radio 2 Please” I reply. The chauffeur takes care of the parking at the barrier and I am on my way. WOW, as we enter the motorway and effortlessly glide to motorway speeds. I get my phone from my pocket and dial Jane, to let her know I am on my way home. ”Hello, Jane” No sooner have I said hello than I notice the radio volume in the car is turned down to very low. After letting Jane know I’ll be home in around an hour and a half I settle down, I joke that I could do with a scotch and soda and surprisingly I am told that had I ordered it before hand it would have not been a problem! ……. To be continued
