We awoke to a lovely bright, sunny morning. That was our motivator. I was out of bed and setting the electric oven on the table outside before 08:00 in order to bake some bread for our pack-up lunch, whilst The Chef took herself off to the shower block.
Breakfast was Weetabix, though I am now limiting myself to just one straw brick a day, as we're getting a bit low on supplies and it's The Chef's favourite. I'll probably buy some Corn Flakes or something when we get back in to France.
Armed with cameras, fleece jackets, just in case, lunch, sunscreen, alcohol soap, map and sunglasses we were ready to set out on today's 'mission'. I say mission because the heliport down the road, as well as taking lunatics up to the tops of mountains to jump off, also takes supplies in under-slung nets up in to the mountains, and the better the weather the more the flying, so it really does feel like holidaying in a war zone like Vietnam or Afghanistan.
So there we are at Lauterbrunnen railway station to buy our train tickets up to Wengen, where we would catch the cable car up to Männlichen then return. There was one long queue out of the Ticket Office door and three windows open to serve passengers. In front of us were a group of five Yanks, four adults and a lad of about 14. Now when we go in to buy tickets we know where we're going, when, and how. Not the stupid Yanks. They pontificated over which day of the week they should go up to Jungfraujoch, what time, how long they should stay up there etc without any sense of urgency at all. Whilst all this is going on a Swiss chap I assume, walks to one of the windows with a customer at it, and when its free buys a ticket. I said to Rosina "What happened there? He obviously wasn't going to join the queue like the rest of us". Within minutes an Indian tour guide (I knew that by the red flag on a stick he was carrying), says "Excuse me", brushes past and stands behind the customer at the middle window, when he'd been served the Indian guy starts to buy his tickets, not one or two, but forty, and not just forty tickets but 40 discount cards, and on top of that calls his mate in from the platform to join him to do his transactions as well. So out of three windows we had five Yanks who didn't have a clue what they wanted at window one, two Indians at window two with just window three dealing very slowly with the queue of customers.
When the Indian had finished his very long-winded ticket buying I thought this is it. He was the Chapatti Kid and it was High Noon. I said, nice and loudly "Excuse me, you might like to consider how long that transaction would have taken you if you'd joined the back of the queue like everybody else", pointing along the long line of patient customers. Soon after a German chap behind me supported me. I just kept telling the Indian that he was very rude, and how he should have joined the back of the queue like everybody else. That's the problem you see, back home in Mumbai or wherever, he would have climbed on to the top of the railway carriage along with hundreds of others and had a free ride, but today, just because he was getting to ride inside the carriage he thought he was the dogs nob. I did also make a very pointed remark to the chap behind the window that he shouldn't have served the Chapatti Kid because of queue jumping and instead should have sent him to the back.
Eventually that bit of fun was over and we boarded a train up to Wengen from where we caught the cable car up to Männlichen. The weather up there was glorious, with lovely views of the mountains including the north face of the Eiger.
Before coming down we treated ourselves to a small beer each. A mere £8, I don't know how they manage to do it so cheaply.
So that was it really, there was nobody else to upset, the weather had been very hot (28°C), and The Chef served up a lovely stir-fry for our evening meal.
Perhaps we'll have a curry tomorrow.