The plan was that G would fly into Manchester airport at 6:10 pm and I would be there to meet him, having slipped away from work a little before 5:00. An email had gone round at work announcing cake at 4:30 to celebrate the launch of the new Welsh course books and CDs that our Welsh tutor has been working on over the summer. I had planned to avoid this, but I was in the middle of testing the student logins and changing the passwords, ready for the classes starting next week, when my mobile rang. Now that was something of a miracle in itself because the signal is very bad all over the college, apart from one spot in the car park and another spot scrunched up in the corner in T007. I'm lucky if I can get one bar on the reception indicator thingy in our office and normally the phone sits there pathetically saying Network search.
Anyway, the mobile rang and it was G to say that he was in Düsseldorf, had missed his connection due to the plane from Prague being late and would thus not arrive in Manchester until 8:50. Great!
So I did attend the launch party for the Welsh book -- but skipped the wine as I had a lot of driving ahead of me. After a while I slipped away back to the office and changed a few more passwords until 6:00 pm, at which point I set off for the airport so I would arrive while it was still light. I arrived safely at 7:00, having survived the busy motorway. I then discovered a) that the arrivals area at terminal 3 was very small and b) totally lacking in anything interesting to do. Even the cafe was closing. Fortunately there was a Spar shop, so I purchased a ham salad baguette and a bottle of orange juice and settled down for a 2 hour wait.
Not having expected a long wait, the only reading matter I had with me was an old copy of Golwg and the little Welsh book Bywyd Blodwen Jones.
So I skimmed Golwg, reading bits of the easier articles, and then settled to read a page or two of the book. But reading Welsh is not recreational in the same way reading English is because I have to think too hard and I was tired. There were the arrivals to watch. Both Manchester and Salford universities had tables set up and people staffing them wearing university sweatshirts. They seemed to be greeting new students arriving from overseas. A little cluster of such students ended up gathered near where I was sitting, waiting for their transport to wherever it was they were going. The transport was somewhere held up in traffic. Behind me a mother and two children settled on more seats. Or at least the mother and daughter settled, the boy, doing the usual bored boy things, was swinging on some kind of hand rail.
It's interesting how names go in and out of fashion. This won't mean anything to anyone under about 50, but it totally cracked me up and I found it very difficult not to laugh out loud. The mother, reprimanding the boy for swinging on the rail said:
"George... Don't do that!"
Today I cycled into town this morning and bought the tax disc for the Daihatsu. It is now totally legal and roadworthy again. Then we went to the Grapes in Maentwrog for lunch. The quality of the food seemed to have declined recently, but I thought it was better again today. Perhaps they have a new chef?
I spent the afternoon fiddling around, catching up with rasfc and LJ. Though I have printed out the forms to sign up for Novacon. Probably too late to get a single room, but I suppose I can always share.