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Darrell

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My mate Dave is going through a few changes in his personal life and so, on a Friday after work or early Saturday morning he fancies nipping off somewhere abroad for a night or 2. He was wondering if anyone knew of any websites with very last minute, cheap flights. Sky scanner and the other usual suspects are quite dear. TIA.
 
The father of my daughter's ex boyfriend liked a drink or two on a Friday night with his golfing pals.

Every now and then they used to go to Gatwick and just get on the next flight they could buy a ticket for.

Last time, he phoned home on Saturday morning to say he was in Athens and would be home soonish.
 
I think Dave should have a fun weekend on his own and see what happens :banana:
 
The father of my daughter's ex boyfriend liked a drink or two on a Friday night with his golfing pals.

Every now and then they used to go to Gatwick and just get on the next flight they could buy a ticket for.

Last time, he phoned home on Saturday morning to say he was in Athens and would be home soonish.
I love shaggy dog stories like that.
 
Does Dave specifically want to go abroad or could he have a weekend away here?
 
buying a ticket so late will always be expensive, take him on a road trip somewhere
 
Hope Dave sorts something out and has some chill out time wherever
he goes. Let us know how he gets on.
 
The father of my daughter's ex boyfriend liked a drink or two on a Friday night with his golfing pals.

Every now and then they used to go to Gatwick and just get on the next flight they could buy a ticket for.

Last time, he phoned home on Saturday morning to say he was in Athens and would be home soonish.
This is a strange activity for some to grasp yet for me or my brother not unusual and added a level of mystery to a departure.

I am harking back to our single days (no women in tow) and frequent scudding about on motorcycles.
We would often set of from Gloucester in what might be regarded by some as an aimless direction to one of the ports, Weymouth, Portsmouth, Plymouth! In fact anywhere where there was a ferry heading south for some sun and where it wasn't peeing with rain!

I used to think it was highly amusing because the ferry booking clerk is/was obviously used to Brits having a definite plan of a destination and departure points. Confronted by a couple of Gloucester lads on bikes asking where is the next boat is going to would always be answered by Well where are you going?--answering Dunno!:) --Bewilderment in the ferry booking kiosk:eek: I kid you not!

In fact some of those trips looking back have fond memories & great experiences on Le Continent .

One trip by Aznar lines to Santander and the following night in a hotel restaurant in Vigo we got invited to dine with the local Alcalade (county/ city admin office worker folk ) What a howler of an evening!
Another trip and a food stop in Carteret having crossed to Cherbourg.
A family grocery corner store and the lady about our mother's age with two very attractive daughters! Re-called the sound of our motorcycle boots on the store's stone floor--Reminded her of the German occupation!
Then she was at pains to explain how it went quiet for a day in 1944 and then suddenly to see American troops and Jeeps with the Stars and Bars passing the store!
Then out came the grainy photos of her in her younger day hugging an American officer with a helmet on and a fat stogie stuffed in his mouth! :)

Best food-- a French monastery in the Massive Centrale--Got totally $hit faced on the wine, Cognac and Grand Marnier/Maire Brizzard --Whatta hangover!

Best acceptance of Brits--Mad ar$ed Italians. Outside Ravenna ! Only meaning to stop for a few hours we dallied about for three weeks staying with an Italian family who were owners of a small family run business of plasterers and tile setters .
We joined the work crew--got food and board and booze for work on project Had a blast. Learned the techniques of fine grained plaster work, burnishing and setting fine Travertine ceramics. I could have stayed there for ever! Plus how to swear propah like in Italian !

You folks should try that sometime its fun!
As you can tell we were a couple of lads who threw off that typical British reserve early in life
Tuercas Viejas
 
This is a strange activity for some to grasp yet for me or my brother not unusual and added a level of mystery to a departure.

I am harking back to our single days (no women in tow) and frequent scudding about on motorcycles.
We would often set of from Gloucester in what might be regarded by some as an aimless direction to one of the ports, Weymouth, Portsmouth, Plymouth! In fact anywhere where there was a ferry heading south for some sun and where it wasn't peeing with rain!

I used to think it was highly amusing because the ferry booking clerk is/was obviously used to Brits having a definite plan of a destination and departure points. Confronted by a couple of Gloucester lads on bikes asking where is the next boat is going to would always be answered by Well where are you going?--answering Dunno!:) --Bewilderment in the ferry booking kiosk:eek: I kid you not!

In fact some of those trips looking back have fond memories & great experiences on Le Continent .

One trip by Aznar lines to Santander and the following night in a hotel restaurant in Vigo we got invited to dine with the local Alcalade (county/ city admin office worker folk ) What a howler of an evening!
Another trip and a food stop in Carteret having crossed to Cherbourg.
A family grocery corner store and the lady about our mother's age with two very attractive daughters! Re-called the sound of our motorcycle boots on the store's stone floor--Reminded her of the German occupation!
Then she was at pains to explain how it went quiet for a day in 1944 and then suddenly to see American troops and Jeeps with the Stars and Bars passing the store!
Then out came the grainy photos of her in her younger day hugging an American officer with a helmet on and a fat stogie stuffed in his mouth! :)

Best food-- a French monastery in the Massive Centrale--Got totally $hit faced on the wine, Cognac and Grand Marnier/Maire Brizzard --Whatta hangover!

Best acceptance of Brits--Mad ar$ed Italians. Outside Ravenna ! Only meaning to stop for a few hours we dallied about for three weeks staying with an Italian family who were owners of a small family run business of plasterers and tile setters .
We joined the work crew--got food and board and booze for work on project Had a blast. Learned the techniques of fine grained plaster work, burnishing and setting fine Travertine ceramics. I could have stayed there for ever! Plus how to swear propah like in Italian !

You folks should try that sometime its fun!
As you can tell we were a couple of lads who threw off that typical British reserve early in life
Tuercas Viejas
We used to get up to this kind of naughtiness in the mid to late eighties. I was aged 19-22. They were brilliant times. Hats off to you sir.
 
I often used to put a drop of brandy in my bedtime cocoa on Saturdays when I was younger.
 

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