Flying to Toronto

It's not an early start. Our flight isn't until 17:50. Leaving us plenty of time for last-minute packing.

Schiphol is much emptier than I feared. Twenty minutes sees us through all the annoying shit. Passport control is the emptiest I've seen it in years.

We drop by the duty free. The malt whisky is all stupid prices. But there's an offer of 2 litres of Jameson for 40 euros. That'll do.

The lounge is reasonably quiet, too. I have to pay for one of the kids.

“Make sure to eat and drink loads, Lexie. We want to get our money’s worth.”

“You always say that, Dad.”

“Doesn't make it any less valid.”

I know Andrew won't eat fuck all. He never does. Not sure how he survives on the tiny amount he eats.

I'm soon braced by a brace of whiskies. The kids go for boring old Pils.

Alexei gets stuck into the food. Which isn't bad today. I join in the food fun after warming up with a couple of whiskies. Even Andrew eats a couple of wraps. Just to prove me wrong.

We wander down to our gate after the "Go to gate" message comes up on the screen. We're very obedient.

We're further back in the plane than usual. The kids wanted the extra legroom of an emergency exit row. I sit behind them.

It's a relatively short flight. Just 7.5 hours. I've got used to much longer ones. Anything under 10 seems brief.

The food is . . . like KLM food. The main meal is just about edible. But too much rice and not enough chicken.

I watch some stuff on the in-board entertainment. Project Hail Mary, Guardians of the Galaxy, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. It passes the time. Probably not something I would watch at home. Any of them.

As we approach Toronto, it looks pretty murky outside. Forest fires in Ontario. I hope that I'll be able to breathe.

All the entry formalities are soon achieved and we jump on an UP train into the city.  It’s a pretty decent service, going along at a good old whack. Taking us to Union Station, a very grand, neoclassical stone building.

From where we take a taxi. It’s not that far. But definitely too far to walk with luggage.

“It smells like barbecue here.” Alexei remarks. “That must be from the forest fires.”

The smoke is noticeable. But not choking. We seem to have missed the worst of it. Which now seems to have moved on to the USA.

Once checked into our hotel, the kids venture out to a convenience store for some snacks and soft drinks. While I get my flipflop fired up.

I've recorded the England World Cup semi-final on Ziggo so we can watch the game. We rig it up to play through the TV. So we don't all have to stare at the tiny laptop screen.

Of course, Argentina wins in the most annoying way possible. The bastards. I don't know if I'll bother watching the final, as I find both teams so irritating. Thankfully, there's enough Jamesons to take off the edge of annoyance.

It's around 6:30 Dutch time when I turn in. Almost getting up time back home. The whisky helps my body to work out that it’s sleepy time.