Marooned

Well, it's been an eventful few days. I'm sat here in a wireless zone in the middle of Columbo International Airport, writing this, and have just spent 12 hours in Sir Lanka. I missed my flight from Kuala Lumpur to London you see. It wasn't the fault of Sri Lankan Airways, bless them. I lay the blame squarely at the feet of the agents - eBookers. They didn't inform me that Sir Lankan Air had changed the time of the Columbo flight from 0925 to 0840 did they? So like a lemon, I turn up at the gate early, as I always do, and guess what? I see my flight leaving without me. I had to spend an entire 24 hours in the terminal airside at KL International Airport, kicking my heels until the next flight. Now I begin to understand a little how the Tom Hanks character in the 2004 movie The Terminal felt. Marooned. Not my favourite colour. I paid through the nose for a hotel room which was so small, if you swang a cat in there all four walls would have needed to be redecorated.

Sri Lankan Airways came up trumps. I flew in last night to Columbo and was greeted by a driver who took me direct to the Brown Beach Hotel (pictured above) - an idyllic, though slightly run down holiday resort, paid for by Sri Lankan Airlines. I spent a relaxing evening sitting on the beach, watching the surf come in and laughing at the antics of the lizards, tree rodents and other fauna.

There is a line of palm trees that demark the boundary from the hotel to the beach. Cross it and you become prey to the colourful hawkers and opportunists that lurk along the beachline. I was accosted at least 4 times by people desperate to sell me cigaretts, towels, watches, T-shirts ... you name it. By far the best scam though was the little old man who engaged me in conversation on the beach. He claimed he was in the 1956 Ceylon Cricket Team that toured England - Jerry de Silva. He was the opening bat and the wicket keeper apparently. He knew all about those who played in the England team, Fred Truman, John Edrich, you name them. He knew them personally. Knew when they had died, what they died from, what their favourite drink was. Very convincing. Then he pulled out his pet 'charity' - a local school for the deaf, and asked me for a contribution! Well how could I refuse? Easily. I shook his hand, which was like a child's hand. Certainly not a wicket keeper's hand anyway.

Brown's Beach is certainly a nice place to be marooned though, even if I have missed a few appointments back in the UK because of the lack of decency from eBookers.