This has, without doubt, been one of the most bizarre days of my life. I'm quite tired so I'll only give a brief summary (and knowing me that's all you'll ever get) but it says something that I'm willing to stay up and type this.
I got up at 3:00 in the morning in Cheltenham, which was two hours after I'd gone to bed, rather foolishly. But then again, if you have to get up at 3:00 and you're going to spend the next day doing not much else but sitting on a plane where you can drift off, going to bed doesn't take much priority, especially when you could spend time online gossiping about the end-of-term dance. Then we drove from Cheltenham to Heathrow, about 2 hours, and got into Heathrow in time to do all the boring stuff, plus buy tissues and an adapter (currency number one: pounds). Then it was onto the plane.
I slept through the entire flight. No joke. Two whole hours. I fell asleep in my seat before we took off and I woke up as we were landing. But at least I felt slightly alive. Then it transpired that our flight was late and therefore lots of people were going to get rather angry if they couldn't get their connections. Bear in mind this flight left London at 7:00, and no-one is going to fly to Madrid at 7:00 just to go to Madrid. Everyone on that plane was going to Brazil, Perú, or B.A.
So I had the fun of running around Barajas Airport trying to find Gate U73 (I kid you not), and found it only to see that there was a massive queue and I was in no danger whatsoever of missing my flight. So I bought a bottle of water (currency number two: euros).
Then the flight to Buenos Aires. That was odd. 12 hours sitting next to a man from San Tucumán de Jujuy (which sounds like quite an interesting place) who was about 107 and clearly didn't realise that I didn't understand the Argentinian accent. The flight staff (whom he referred to as "chicas" even though they were all at least 40) didn't really know what he was saying either, but towards the end of the flight I managed to more or less get everything. We covered a wide range of subjects, most of them very briefly, until I lost my wallet.
Yes, I know, how do you lose your wallet on a plane? Well, I managed it. I think it fell on the floor. Someone found it and handed it to the staff, who promptly put an announcement in and returned it to me. The man subsequently claimed to have prayed to Jesus to return the wallet to me and "Mira, cinco mnutoh dehpuéh, si diceh Oh Señor..." there it was. So that was odd. I also re-watched Juno in Spanish, which must have lost things. I mean, how can you possible convey "That ain't no Etch-a-Sketch. This is one doodle that can't be undid, home skillet" in a foreign language, especially to a culture that has no knowledge of the concept of an Etch-a-Sketch?
And the flight was extremely bumpy and eurgh. And the climate here is horrendously humid and everyone asks for tips (I've spent 100 pesos on tips because I had no change [currency number three: Argentine pesos]) and you would not believe the driving. It's actually like Grand Theft Auto. Actually. Really. I'm not joking. If I ever get into an Argentine cab again it will be far too soon for me.
But the house. Oh, the house. It's incredible. The building has one of those fantastic two-doored incredibly old lifts in it, and the flat is more like a penthouse from the colonial 1750s (which is probably precisely what is it). But I have a lot of time to talk about that, and not so much time to go to bed.
So, total time in Sunday, 9th March: 24 hours. Total time I spent in Sunday, 9th March: 28 hours, 30 minutes.