Oh FFS

Being without pyjamas is quite rightly relegated to the “Don’t roll your eyes at me,” sort of problem. However combined with the previously described slow burning catastrophe of being bereft of one’s luggage I would advocate that such a circumstance now warrants the appropriate level of UN intervention. There appears to be no happy medium when your winter fleece is your night-time attire and the aircon is designed for solar flare or arctic tundra with no middle ground. Well what does not kill you only makes you stronger, sweatier, shiverier, tireder and less welcoming of a brand new day. But we made it. And what a view out the window.

Breakfast was navigated, it usually takes a few days to suss out the offerings of hotels, but this was very good and set us up for the day nicely. One caveat is that because Turkey is a Muslim country the substitute for bacon and such is turkey ham which I am sure you are surprised to hear is not great.

One other issue we needed resolved was that we had not yet heard what time our pickup was coming to return us to the airport. A nervous hour or two was spent waiting before we got a reply. Sorted.

Next it was off to the campus that included the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sofia. On the way Mrs Verno was drawn to a jewellery shop. This gave the hawkers time to congregate around me telling how wonderful Ireland was and that I should visit their shop for that carpet I looked like I was in desperate need of. Some people have it.

We ventured into the Blue Mosque given the time constraints we were under and what a treat it was. Stunning. Strict dress codes were in place and we were fortunate to attract another hawker who wanted to sell us carpets and spices. He made sure Mrs Verno was suitably attired and. Said she was his new sister. We could not shake him at all until we made a run from the exit.

The Blue Mosque was spectacular as you can see. After that we waited for our lift to the airport. What an airport. The size was quite unbelievable. Even the notice boards were impressive.

One last thing. There are feckin cats everywhere. Everywhere.

Anyway. It’s a 10 hour flight ahead of us. And without the compression stockings we agonised over. Like almost everything else, they are in the case. Tomorrow will tell if we are to be reunited with them or that all hell will break out. Tune in.