What my Mum’s ordeal at Heathrow Airport says about us says Littlejohn https://t.co/Ms5M6Wwu0l Please ReTweet pic.twitter.com/aTbejzS4uu
— Will Corry (@slievemore) October 8, 2016
My 88-year-old mother, who lives in America, paid a state visit to England recently. Like most women of her World War II generation, she is determined, in the words of Winston Churchill, to KBO (Keep Buggering On) and tries to remain as active as she can.
Even so, whenever she flies we request a wheelchair at the airport to spare her having to walk too far. In the U.S, the system usually works like a dream.
On departure, there’s always one at the kerbside waiting to whisk her through security. On arrival, she’s picked up as she leaves the plane and transported to the car.
So naturally she expected the same level of service flying between Detroit and Heathrow. No such luck. When she got off the plane in London there was no wheelchair, even though one had been requested.