I'd not really had the chance to get excited about going away because there was so much stuff to do to get prepared. I slept on the way to Manchester airport and by the time I woke up we were pretty much there. We got all our money we'd amassed from Asia and the Pacific changed to Moroccan dirhams, and flew to Frankfurt. Only we weren't actually in Frankfurt, we were 2 hours out of Frankfurt but Ryanair's marketing team is staffed by disingenuous toerags so it's called Frankfurt-Hahn. Dreams of getting a taxi and seeing a bit of Germany were quashed and we slept on the floor after watching Pretty Woman on the computer.
I'd like to say that I awoke to this:
but I didn't and I have no desire to work for an Irish airline so I might as well continue being honest. I couldn't tell you why, it just made me smile.
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