Car picked us up from home, 5pm, smooth ride to the airport. Check-in clerk says he must ring Australia. "We do it for everyone," he says with a reassuring smile.
Reports back, minus smile, with another guy. "There's a problem."
One of our many, many documents states I am Mrs Jennifer Mary Black. The airline ticket has me down as Mrs William Black, and Australia won't accept me.
I had visions of Bill flying off, and me heading home in a taxi. (Must remember to get house key from him.) Then I remembered Paul and his police training - smile and insist. "I am both of those things," I said. "I am one person. Check my passport number. It is nothing but a clerical error." On whose part, I did not say.
The manager spent ages hanging on to call Australia to try and change things. We stood at the desk, worrying. It must have taken an hour or more, and we finally paid £10 to get the name changed so Australia will accept me. We made it to the BL in time to have a swift glass of wine (2 SWIFT brandies for Bill to calm his nerves) and then onto the plane at 8.30pm, - the plane left 30 minutes late because "there had been so many problems." (Not just us, I hasten to add.)
The young guy behind us was flying to Singapore for work, and his PCR test was 5 hours out of time. We don't know what happened to him but he may have had to stay overnight and wait for a new test. Flying these days is no easy task. Check and treble check everything. I am braced for an exciting arrival in Sydney.....
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