Up and away at last and all was uneventful. We were told that there were light showers in England as an aftermath of hurricane Bertha travelling across the Atlantic, but that seemed slight after the havoc it had caused in America and we didn't expect any problems. The pilot hoped to regain some of the time lost and we were relaxed.
Two hours later, we started our descent into Luton airport and I looked out of the window at the fantastic, tall, cloud formations. They towered above us in beautiful, calm, white structures like glaciers in the sky. The plane slowed, circled, but didn't land and I assumed it was stacking. It continued circling for about 20 minutes and then flew into the clouds and I thought we were about to see the airport. What I didn't know at the time was that, beneath the clouds, there was a torrential storm with heavy rain and lightning. The plane continued its manoeuvres for another ten minutes before finally landing. As we touched down, I saw three fire engines chasing the plane and another three to the side of us, all with blue lights flashing. Very dramatic, but we landed safely and the fire engines continued on their path, so I assumed they weren't there for us. Later, though, I wondered if that was too much of a coincidence, although they weren't mentioned by the pilot and I guess we didn't need to know.
As the passengers stood up, ready to leave, the pilot made another announcement. We weren't in Luton, but had diverted to Stansted as the storm under those beautiful, white clouds made it unsafe to land. We were now going to re-fuel and, when the storm had passed, fly to our intended destination. However, as the airline didn't usually use that airport, we weren't a priority, so would need to wait. We were thanked for our patience again. Passengers took out their mobiles to contact those waiting for them at Luton, and heavy rain started to fall, as if to torment us. After half an hour, the pilot updated us, telling us that we were still awaiting the fuel tanker and, once again, thanked us for our patience. Eventually, the rain stopped, we were re-fuelled, and on our way.
I now know that it takes a mere 12 minutes in a jet to fly from Stansted to Luton and it seemed that we'd scarcely taken off before we landed safely, albeit three hours late. The pilot had decided that it would have been unnecessarily dangerous to try and land in the storm and we trusted his decision without question. He stood outside the cockpit as we disembarked and when we thanked him he looked relieved.
All would have been ok if the baggage handlers had then done their job. Passengers were weary and wanted to leave the airport, but their bags hadn't arrived. Three times, as if to tease us, the conveyor belt at baggage reclaim started moving and we anticipated seeing the first bags appear, but then the belt stopped. After an hour's wait, an announcer apologised for the delay and thanked us for our patience. That was the last straw for some of the passengers who had, up to that point, been so patient, and they complained loudly. Maybe they just needed to vent their frustration; in reality, we had no option but to wait. Then, to everyone's delight, the bags began to appear.
We finally left the airport to begin our holiday in London, not wanting to hear anyone thank us for our patience for a long time.