Once the food gets packed away, and the sun sets on the other side of the plane, I do fuck all but learn some more Spanish. Soy de Inglaterra, y claro que hablo ingles. Hablo un poco de espanol. Can't work out how to type accented characters here, but you get the gist. Some Spanish is really hard.
We land pretty much on time and on my way out I tell Sharon that I'll see her again in a few minutes because I'm coming back too. Boarding starts within about 20 minutes of us having first touched down, and I'm about 5th on the airbridge, which I soon think is going to collapse because everyone's on it and we're not actually allowed on the plane yet since it's not ready for us. D'oh.
The BA app had said we were going to leave on time but arrive an hour late, but the first officer tells us the flight time is normal. How can that be? Oh, because we're not going to fucking take off for an hour, that's why. Gah! So I'm stuck with this view as we sit on the Tarmac.
Bergen has been pretty cursed on this trip; I think next time there's a sale on from Norway I'll go to Stavanger instead. Anyway, we have actually asked for permission to take off sooner - I should hope so too; it's not explained how on earth we didn't have permission to take off at our scheduled departure time anyway - and news comes that we may well do so at 7.25pm local time. But given I'm typing this very sentence at 7.30pm while we're still at the gate that seems unlikely. Oh, but now we're pushing back. C'mon BA, take me home.
Eventually we're in the air. Business class is a variable size cabin on these planes, they can modify the seats and shift a curtain based on how many rows there should be. On the way out there were 3 rows, and now there are 4. No-one is seated in row 4, however, so I'm fucked if I know why they've done that.
All power is now draining. My phone's under 40%, iPad under 30% and USB brick somewhere in the 30s too. Also I'm fucked. Cabin pressurisation always makes me tired, but my abject exhaustion has predictably put me in hallucinatory mode, those mini sleeps which cause instant, realistic, bizarre dreams. We're not talking overnight-train-in-Bulgaria-in-2013 standard, but pretty close. (I'm aware this reference will be lost on basically everyone)
Drinks service starts much quicker on this leg. Back in September, the food was much nicer on way towards rather than from Heathrow, so I'm keen to see if that'll be the case again today. While waiting I start watching The Great Gangster Film Fraud, and despite my newfound hatred of Steve Jobs I am really in love with picture in picture on the iPad.
Has anybody invented translucent micro suction pads for phones, I wonder? I really want one. I've got a black one which lets me attach my phone to the wall, which is great, but I'm thinking that a translucent one would let me attach the camera to a window - say, a plane window - for some epic time lapse opportunity.
The food was much better, again. No choice offered, but it was the king prawn thing same as last week, with a bunch of cheese and some more cheese and two more bottles of champagne. Really enjoying the film too, plus I've just taught yet another member of BA cabin crew on the wonders of starting a long business class trip in Norway to save mucho dineros. Not that I let on about the mistake - no real need to go there, since it's still a huge saving most of the year round anyway.