Traveling

We are flying over London

We are flying over the airport

My wife Mary and I are looking

Through the window of the ´plane*

We can see a beautiful city

It is London

We can see a river

It is the river Thames.

It is ten o´clock in the morning

It is raining.

Now we are leaving the ´plane.

A bus is waiting to take us

to the customs building.

All the passengers are getting into the ´bus.

“What time is it? an old lady asks.

“It is a quarter past ten,

We are half an hour late”.

The ‘bus stops

It stops at the entrance to the building.

The passengers are getting off the ´bus.

They take their hand-luggage with them:

coats, briefcases, cameras and umbrellas.

The air-hostess says: “Please

Have your passports ready”.

I look into my briefcase but I cannot see my passport

“Is my passport in your bag, Mary? “ I ask my wife.

“No, John, it´s in your overcoat-pocket”.

Yes, you are right, here it is”.

“Where is our luggage? Can you see it, Mary?”

“No, I can´t see it, it isn´t here.

Look! There´s a porter. Let´s ask him

“Good morning. We can´t find our luggage.

Can you help us, please?

“What color is your luggage, sir?”

It is brown. Here are our tickets”.

“Your luggage is not here sir.

This luggage is in transit.

Are you staying in London, sir?”

“Yes, we are”

“Come with me please, sir”.

“Thank you”.

“Is this your luggage, sir?”

“Yes, It is. Thank you very much.”

“This way please, sir”.