The deadliest, jelliest site ever. Brought to you by Niamh Shaw

True to form, we almost missed the flight from Dunedin to Auckland.

Here’s more form.

Aaand more.

In case you need further convincing.

Ok? Good.

Thank goodness we had enough time to stop off for a Beano’s Pie, although not enough to feed the baby. When we arrived at the airport, Finn had practically started himself on solids by gnawing his own arm off with the hunger, poor child.

I rushed into the terminal to nurse him and was sitting in front of the Jetstar counter thinking, “Hmm, HOW ODD there aren’t more people checking in”.
Next thing, I hear an announcement: “Jetstar flight JK837 to Auckland is now closed, the counter is now closed. Any remaining passengers for Jetstar flight JK837 to Auckland please proceed to go fuck yourselves”.
And I’m on my feet, baby clamped to boob, trying to distract the woman at the Jetstar counter, who is stowing her microphone with a terrible air of finality, when Andrew saunters in the door like he’s strolling through the public gardens looking for an aviary with a rare breed of cockatoo.

Thankfully he managed to persuade the Jetstar Attendant to re-open the counter by using his charm or underarm sweat – either of which are equally potent.


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