Day 2 – restless

I arrived at this airport just after 12. So, I’ve been here just over two hours. I’ve walked round the four shops which were actually open- many, many are closed. Some closed for good, some.just closed for lunch – which as a Brit I just don’t understand. I wanted to buy Wildcard one last birthday gift but the shop is closed. Oh well.

I’ve drank coffee. I’ve packed and repacked my bags. I’ve drank water. I’ve bought him biscuits. I’ve eaten gluten free snacks (woohoo!). I’ve browsed Facebook, BBC news and Google. I’ve had enough now.

I’m ready to go. I feel as pretty as I can in the situation. My bag is packed satisfactorily and I am suitably refreshed. I. Just. Want. To. Go.

I’m sat looking at the departures board waiting for the Gate number to come up. There is about a half an hour wait. I’m sat as close as I can to the area, and I can see border control. Do I go through like the countless people of his country that I’ve seen? Or do I wait?

I don’t know what is at the other side. What if, miraculously, all the shops open and then I can’t get to them? I doubt it, somehow.

I can hear children at the otherside…what is over there??

I’m through, after fighting with the electronic border control. They didn’t like the fact I was wearing my mask, funnily enough. And? It is pretty much the same as the other side except there are more people. Closed shops and cafes, lots of seats – most with do not sit signs- and that is it. But, I am yet another step closer. Just got to get past the Ryanair gate keepers now. Then, finally, through border control in Wildcard’s country. And then, I’m with him.

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