I was nervous. This accounted for the amount of messing about working out how to get to the airport before I settled on Golder's Green and National Express. As it happened, it worked like a dream. Arrived early, bag 500g under the weight limit, and time for a posh bacon sandwich in Pret. Picked up the Penguin Classic edition of William S. Burroughs and Jack Kerouac, And The Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks, which sounded like the right title.
A text from PT, and I rendez-vous with him and another newbie - Tom, who revealed that he was 21 and had just got a First. Those were the days. Grabbed a seat for three thanks to £3 spent on priority boarding and settle down for the flight. Tom notices the book and asked if I'd read 'On The Road'. Answering 'no', was meet with a 'fail' type noise. Almost went into my policy on On The Road (mostly, if you haven't read it by 16 then it's too late, plus have flicked through it, exploding candles and all that), including not going to the special viewing of the Scroll, but decided against it.
Biarritz Airport is everything Stanstead is not. Meet some others at the bag collection and wait for the van to arrive. We pile in the back, and ride for about 45 mins, feeling queasy and imagining what marines - or other unlucky sods in the back of some windowless vehicle - feel like.
Then, the doors open, and we are at the most beautiful hostel, with a blue, evening sky, set against deep green hills and in the clear air. It is stunning, and the cols look both wonderful and terrifying.
Meet the rest of the Team - a sea of similar faces, old friends meeting up, nicknames, guessing of ages, probing of abilities and talking the talk. Everyone spends a bit too long tinkering with their bikes. We have decent meal under the vines, and head to bed. I can't sleep.
Sunday 30 August 2009
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