Farewell Dubai

Day four, Thursday 3rd May.
A slow start but we are eager to partake of the sumptuous breakfast buffet again. The planner keeps Grannie under control so the pusher is placated and is able to enjoy breakfast with minimum interuption. We are contacted by Emirates early in the am to be advised of the delivery of a new wheelchair so we pack the bags and wait with baited breath. At the 11th hour with the chauffered limo waiting, a wheelchair of the same variety arrived in the foyer of the hotel but alas it was not the same and we were forced to reject it and retreat rapidly to the cool of the limo and hightail it to the airport. Refusing to carry a second damaged wheelchair with us to London, the planner held firm on her resolve to leave the original wheels behind and after much discussion the baggage people retrieved them and we beat a hasty retreat to the Emirates business class lounge. The pusher and planner were planted on a trusty people mover and the payer was left to run behind with her Emirates porter running at full pelt to keep up.
We finally made it to the lounge with 20mins to spare so Stewart downed a couple of 2002 Moets because he could and a 2004 French red which he continued to enjoy on board the plane. Once more we were jinxed with faulty seats and sound systems. We are  begining to think that Thomas is making his presence felt and theres not alot we can do about it. The hostie, Candice tried hard to make amends but even the substitute seat had  faulty seat issues so finally to appease a fairly  disgruntled planner by now seat 2f in first class was offered. Naturally  she jumped at it so leaving the payer and pusher behind sought refuge in the cocooned environment of the pointy end of the plane.
The reunion occured just prior to landing after Penny returned to the far more sociable enclave of business class and rescued Stewart from the tirades of a drunken englishman, intent on holding up the bar and talking absolute b...... t to anyone who would listen.
We landed on time and were whisked away by  a chauffeur who addressed Grannie as Madam and Stewart as Sir - there was no doubt we had arrived in Great Britain.
Charlotte and Sebastian met us at our flat on the top floor of a very english terrace house in Royal Ave, Chelsea S W 3 and there was much ooooing and ahhing. Yes the Planner had excelled herself as we all settled into the life of the English gentry for  a few days.