Two hours in Terminal One at Heathrow and you start to realize just how much rubbish is available for consumption -- particularly when one is a captive and bored audience. Teddy bears wearing Union Jacks (Harrods), iPod accessories (boo, hisss!), Filofaxes (still? really?!?), and expensive fountain pens. Who uses a fountain pen nowadays? Can you still buy ink? How do you blog with a fountain pen?
My lowest point came when BMI announced that it had delayed the flight by 30 minutes. I'd finished reading Grazia and was thus goal-less. I found myself in Austin Reed, idly checking out smart stripy shirts and co-ordinating tank tops. Smart they might have been, but in 5 weeks' time, I'll be working from home -- and thus able to sit around in just my skivvies, marinating in a pool of my own filth, should I so choose. I will have no need for "work" clothes (as indeed I don't now, to be honest), no need to shop in upmarket stores in airport terminals, no need to color co-ordinate shirts and jumpers. Hurrah! I will be feral editor -- hmm, sounds like the name of a new blog ...
A packed social agenda meant that I started writing this on Tuesday but didn't get round to posting it until now. Oh, how hard it is when one is in demand!
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