Airport.

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There I sat in Belfast international Airport early this morning, disgusted and irritated. Only place I could get a seat and what passed for ‘coffee’ was in a disreputable chain of coffee shops - bilge, pure bilge. And here’s something else. Have you noticed that when people have evaded being herded onto a plane an announcement is made saying “This is the last and final call for flight 567”? Last AND final, both. I wonder what the difference between last and final might be? All sounds very ominous. And the pilot. Oh the pilot. He along with the rest of the crew were southern Irish people and they spoke quicker than the plane was flying. But the pilot when doing his otiose announcement at the start (why do we need to know the plane’s height and speed?) gave us the flying itinerary. The problem was that he couldn’t remember what the eventual destination was. He listed the towns we’d be passing over before flying into … then there were muffled whispers before he was informed that he was flying us to Edinburgh. So we got to Edinburgh.