The cafe at Leeds/Bradford airport had a huge window straight opposite the entrance and overlooking the runway. It should have been a fabulous view on a clear December afternoon, but as Mum and her partner went in through the door, a thick blanket of fog started to descend outside. It rolled towards them like a giant tsunami and within seconds had blotted out the sun, the beautiful blue sky and everything on the ground.
Visibility went from perfect to zero and – even worse – it was a freezing fog, so that everything it touched turned almost instantly to ice. Suddenly there was no chance of any planes landing safely, even if they could find the airport!
At 681 feet/208 metres above sea level, however, Leeds/Bradford is England’s highest airport and so the staff are used to sudden changes in weather disrupting flights. They have plans in place, ready to cope with these emergencies and soon everything was reorganised.
The plane was diverted 60 miles/96 kms north to Teesside International Airport and soon a coach was on its way to take all the passengers and their luggage there by road from Leeds. There was only one problem – there was no way Mum’s partner could get on the coach…
The staff solved that problem by saying they would order a taxi for the two of them – but then tried to over-compensate by insisting on trying to get a “pope-mobile” sort of taxi, even though both Mum and her partner kept saying that they could manage quite well in an ordinary taxi.
After about an hour – and with no “pope-mobile” available – the staff decided they’d get an ordinary taxi after all. But by that time the airport was well and truly closed and, with no chance of any customers there, all the taxis had gone into Leeds for the evening.
Mum and her partner then had to wait for the nearest one to come back to the airport and pick them up. Luckily it didn’t take long and soon they were on their way – but unluckily it also didn’t take long to realise that the heaters in the taxi weren’t working and, long before they got as far as Ripon to join the A1, ice crystals were forming on the inside of the windows…
Somehow they got to Teesside Airport without freezing to death on the way – and after that everything went smoothly. Two stewardesses were waiting to whisk them through the formalities and then they were on their way to Heathrow.
Though their plane to Lyon had long gone, they were booked onto an early morning flight and were lucky enough to have friends who lived near the airport and could give them a bed for the night. A taxi was booked to pick them up the following morning at half-past five and soon they were on their way again…
They arrived at Lyon Saint-Exupery airport exactly on time and in beautiful – but chilly! – weather, and by mid-morning they’d booked into their hotel, overlooking the river Rhone, met up with their professor friend from Exeter, and arrived at the conference venue.
The rest of that day was taken up with talks on different aspects of mining history from speakers from around the world. Then in the evening dinner was provided, along with plenty of good wine and the chance to socialise – though fortunately most people there spoke either French, German or English and so conversation wasn’t too difficult.
And, as no mining history conference is complete without a visit to some old mines, a trip out into the country north of Lyon to see the remains of some very old silver-lead mines was arranged for the following day.
Because there was quite a large group of people going, a coach had been hired to pick everyone up at the hotel after breakfast and drive them out to the site. As with the coach at Leeds/Bradford airport, however, there was no way Mum’s partner could get on it in his wheelchair. But this time there was only one step (and the pavement was clean and dry) and he was able to transfer himself from his wheelchair onto the pavement. Then, because he had plenty of upper-body strength, he could lift himself in a sitting position onto the coach step and then along the floor and into the nearest seat.
As you can imagine, this took more than a few minutes, however, and soon traffic was screeching to a halt on the main road in front of the hotel and drivers were pointing to him with looks of horror on their faces. Mum couldn’t understand what was happening – then suddenly she realised…
With the other conference delegates gathered around, waiting for their turn to get on the coach, and nothing of her partner visible other than his legs stuck out on the pavement, everyone driving past thought that there’d been a terrible accident and he’d been run over by the coach!
That’s all for today, but I’ll tell you more about that trip – and about Lyon itself – in my next post. Meanwhile, take care and stay safe – and I’ll talk to you again soon!
Follow my next blog: 162. MY MUM THE STORY-TELLER – PART FIFTY-FIVE
09/09/2021
Wilf the bear-faced blogger 