We didn't want to say goodbye...

... or so you'd think! Yes, we were told when we checked in that our flight was two hours late, but the two hours came and went, and unfortunately we didn't. There was just a jumbo load of disconsolate people in an empty terminal at 10:20 at night, with shops closing around us and no Virgin staff even at the gate. Eventually a sole woman in cabin staff uniform strolled in, was mobbed, and the news was out: our flight was cancelled. We high-tailed it back to the check in and luckliy got there ahead of the crush. One of the benefits of flying Premium economy (apart from the legroom and better air) is that our bags arrive first so, armed with the promise of a room at the airport Hilton we'd been allocated, we got a quick getaway to the hotel from the carousel and were enjoying nachos and beer at Richard Branson's expense as our fellow traveller's trickled in to get their rooms.

So, one last hotel photo, to round out the set. The (not bad at all) Hilton at Boston airport:

We all trooped back as we had been told at 8:00, the check-in staff arrived half an hour later and we eventually left at 11:30, getting into Heathrow 15 hours late. So rather than having most of Friday to get sorted out, we went straight to bed. Not the best way to end a holiday.

Oh, and the reason for the cancellation? Terrorists at Heathrow? Mechanical fault? Oh no. The plane was a jumbo, but the crew waiting at Boston to fly it were only trained for Airbuses! I think someone has some explaining to do, don't you?