I did a sandwich course at university which involved spending a year working in industry. I did my placement in the Channel Islands working for Guernsey Electricity. If there was one problem, it was how difficult it was getting back to Northern Ireland from there.

One of my holidays was a trip home for a week to visit family. This involved three plane journeys, and would take the best part of a day. It was Guernsey to London Gatwick to Belfast City (or George Best Airport as it is now) to Eglington (or City of Derry).

As always on these trips there were no problems on the journey home. The fun and frolics were on the trip back to the Channel Islands.

In those days there was only one flight to and from Belfast (I don't even think they do it any more). It was a commuter flight, flying out early morning and returning early evening. As all my flights were with the same airline, I decided to check my baggage in for the whole journey at Eglington which would save me the bother of chasing after luggage in various airports.

Everything was running fine until the plane tried to take off. The plane we were on was very small with no real cockpit (I was sitting in the front row so I could see what the pilot was doing). As we were racing down the runway to take off, all these red lights started flashing, with machines going beep.

The pilot being a rather careful sort of bloke, decided to abort the take off and taxied us back to the terminal building. When we got back there an engineer came on board and asked the pilot what the problem was and the pilot simply replied that there was no f*ing way that he was going to fly this piece of st. Great to see such professionalism.

Next thing I know, we are on a coach bombing it down to Belfast. Of course, my travel plans were now completely in the air as there was no way that I would make any of my connections. Rather than blindly panic, I headless chicken panicked.

The cunning plan was that I would get the lunchtime flight to London and then get the mid afternoon flight to Guernsey. I phoned my landlady explaining to her that I would get there when I got there and not to worry. The good news was that I would be given a five pounds food voucher for Belfast City airport. The bad news was that the cheapest meal was five pounds fifty.

There were no further problems getting to Gatwick airport, and as I was already checked into the afternoon flight to the Channel Islands I thought that my troubles were over. Little did I know...

The afternoon flight to Guernsey was called, and I went to the boarding gate. Just before boarding my name was called over the tanoy and I was asked to make myself available to an airline attendant(It is one of the most uncomfortable things in the world when called to do something like that in a public place. As you head towards the desk everyone looks at you wondering why you've been called up).

It was explained to me that due to an administrative error there wasn't room for me on that flight and that I've been rebooked on the evening flight (another four hour late). Not wanting to cause a fuss I just went with the flow. The good news was that I got another free meal out of the airline. The bad news was that this one cost me two pounds.

At the evening flight I got a feeling of deja vu, as again a couple of minutes before boarding I was asked to make my way to the gate desk. I was told that there was another error and that the flight was full, and that they would put me up in an hotel and put me on the first flight in the morning.

Being rather concerned that I was already two pounds fifty out of pocket from meals, I didn't think I could afford one of their free hotel rooms, I calmly shrieked that I had enough of their errors, and explained to them in a voice that may have been shouting, if they could guarantee that I would be at work for half eight the following morning, because if they couldn't I would make a scene until I was on the plane.

I did feel sorry for the poor woman I was dealing with (only after I got on the place) but by this time I was getting both tired and frustrated. After a few minutes of discussions (I did my woman impersonation of this is what you will do and them doing it) it was amicably decided that I would go on one of the jump seats on the evening plane.

It wasn't the most comfortable journey I've ever been on, but there were two good things going for it. Firstly, I was right next to the refreshments so I got as much as I wanted to. And secondly, I spent the whole flight practising my chatting up skills with the air hostesses.

Once I arrived in Guernsey I then ran into my final problem, my luggage wasn't on the plane. Being on the jump seat, I was first off the plane, but I waited like a lemon at the baggage retrieval waiting for my bag which never appeared. At that point I lost it, and went on an uninteruptable rant about the failings of the airline concerned.

About twenty minutes later (when I stopped to take a breath) one of the Guernsey customs officials came up to me (in full riot gear) to explain that my baggage had arrived on the afternoon flight and that they had it in an office for me to collect. So me and my luggage finally got home, one mental breakdown later.

Remind me next time to walk.

Bye for now