A holiday first – tales of the lost ba

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fter years spent travelling and lots of knocking of wood, finally one of our bags has gone missing. Having arrived at Joburg after a pleasant flight, we waited the carousel for our luggage, one case popped out and the other never appeared. We waited and waited and waited before speaking to the airline 1time who advised that it may come on the next flight (like why?) but never mind, let’s hope it’s on there. We waited and waited and waited, this time accompanied by very annoying, hormonally excited teen netballers who regaled us with their sporting chants, intermittently punctuated by demented squeals - I could have thumped them one. Maybe it was karma (or lack of it) to blame as the bag never arrived, so we went back to the airline, filled in forms and got a little annoyed. They promised they’d look for it but we didn’t really help ourselves either, does the bag have a label? No. What colour is it? Black. What sort of bag is it? Holdall. That narrows it down then. What’s in it? Ummm don’t know, dirty pants?
Our glum mood wasn’t helped either by the fact that no sodding place was open for food so we ended up eating a bag of crisps; it was 11pm and I hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. I was very grumpy

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