Teen trauma
I was 13 - my father had died a few months previously and, to take my mind off it my mum had agreed to me flying over to Hamburg to meet and stay with my penfriend and his family.
The trip went well, Hamburg entranced me, the family were sweet and I was utterly charmed.
Then I arrived back in Blighty at the somewhat intimidating Heathrow airport - just to add to my unease you don't land at the same terminal you fly out of (Yeah ok - obvious to YOU maybe - but I was 13 and had only flown once before - when I was 4 so...).
Anyway I land safe and sound eager to share the joys of my trip with my loving mother.
She wasn't there.
Ahh - I think - she screwed up and went to the terminal that she dropped me off at, so me and all my bags trail the full length of Heathrow to find my mum not there either. I drag my cases back again.
Still no sign of mum.
I try to call home, no answer. I try to call my grandparents, no answer. I realise that I just spent all my cash on two useless phone calls.
I get the information desk to page my mum.
Nothing.
I've now been stranded at Heathrow for over an hour with not even the cost of a cup of tea and some rather unsavoury gents have started to notice me.
Feeling rather shakey by now I perch on a bench near the information desk.
An hour an a half after I landed my mum breezes in claiming a traffic hold up.
She had forgotten that Germany is an hour ahead of us - so although my flight left at two pm it landed at 2 pm too.
Scared for life and still getting drinks out of her to shut me up at family gatherings.
(Mummy V, Wed 8 Mar 2006, 22:24, Reply)