While attempting a “quick check in” at Heathrow for Monday’s trip to Frankfurt, I broke it. It’s not my fault, all I did was show it my credit card and type in my flight number.
I think the cause was that at some point during the check-in process, Lufthansa decided to cancel my flight.
I checked in the old-fashioned way, and was promoted to an earlier flight. Which was then delayed to allow passengers turning up for the cancelled flight to catch the earlier one. And consequently the earlier flight took off at the originally scheduled time of the cancelled flight. Ho hum.
Frankfurt was cold: -5 or so. And by the time I arrived, pretty much shut. Anyway. That night’s hotel had a sign up next to the lifts that, as far as I can make out, meant “no ice cream”.
This week’s taxi driver could find the correct destination, thanks to some advance preparation (multimap and a printer).
One all-day meeting and another six hours travelling/waiting later, and I was home again. I was away for about 30 hours, I guess; it seemed at least double that.