Lise Hand: Journey home an epic adventure as Iceland's Mordor darkens the skies
WHAT the hell was going on? One day I'm reclining peacefully on a sun-lounger in Tenerife -- and 72 hours later I'm galloping wild-eyed around a train-station in Madrid bellowing at passers-by like an oul' wan on Moore Street.
"Anyone need to get to Paris? Get the last of the seats!"
It seemed like a minor inconvenience when I arrived at Tenerife's airport for the flight home last Thursday morning. In fact, most passengers sported blank faces when told there might be a small delay.