For the 10-years anniversary of Brazi cu cap, my favourite  outlet for the useless thoughts squatting rent free in my brain, i am sticking with the airport theme for the rest of 2025. 

Today’s episode is dedicated to Manchester Airport’s T1, my faithful shelter though the last decade of British living. It’s both a fitting anniversary post and goodbye letter, while I’m flying out for the last time (depends where the corporation sends me next week).

Walking through it today, it suddenly hit me me this might actually be my last time here. Most flights have moved to the shiny T2 and T1 is officially closing in the next weeks. Which, honestly is fair, it’s a bit shitty and complex to navigate, has low ceillings and not enough sitting areas. And yet, i got a little bit nostalgic and i will miss it. As much as I referred to it as a crack house, it was my crack home.

This is where i discovered jambon beurre,  my most favourite sandwich of all sandwiches. Where i bought emergency swimsuits to freeze my ass in the nordic sea. Where I sleepwalked into many 6am flights to Germany from Gate 32, the one down the never ending corridor that ends in a glass greenhouse from the 1980s. 

The dodgy Sixt advert in the main hall with the random Swat team hanging will forever make me smile, right before heading to the apron window to get emotional over the Thomas Cook sunny heart logo. That’s long been painted over by the new operators, like a bad plaster job over the memories of the days I was loading casete tapes to watch movies on the leased A330. 

I’ve spent more days in T1 than at my parents home this last decade, and I will never forget the 5am jambon beurres, the smoke evacuation incident, loading pillows on the apron, or the nicest views of the TCX hangar. 

Cheers love, it was messy, chaotic and definitely memorable. 

Alexandra