08.19
Red Carpet Club, Terminal Three, Heathrow.
At the RCC’s forward computer-counter, elaborate plumbing sounds are emerging from behind me. Yes, your intrepid DGM Diariser is once again in Booby-Danger. This man is sick, however, and his sniffs, gurgles & pipe-clearing do not therefore qualify as Booby Twitching.
The running, shouting child has now returned from the elsewhere running-shouting zone outside the Club, the parents having shown courtesy to the other guests in the Club who, possibly, do not share the level of their joy in the running & shouting activities they feel for their loin-fruit. The joyful shouting is of a sufficient amplitude to penetrate the Noise Cancellators.
Rising at 04.00, punctual departure from Bredonborough with Kevin Taximan, country roads for much of the journey, and arrival at the building site that is currently Heathrow Terminal Three c. 06.55. A swifty check-in & straightforward security processing. BAA seems to be responding to the high level of adverse commentary on the poor service provided to travellers at this airport; that is, travelling-shoppers who fly from shopping-opportunity to shopping-opportunity. Secondary screening for shoes (only one machine operational) and straight into the shops en route to the passenger lounges & shops.
20.15 Hotel Acceptable, Silver Spring. MD.
A flight with several seats open, I moved to a 3-seat central row – all to myself! 35 years ago, with 747s new to the skies, open seats / rows were a standard feature on almost all flights. No more: nowadays, exceptionally rare. So today, no Bobbies twitching within my personal energy zone. Boobies? Of course! The man on my right across the aisle, with a Booby Right Leg being given a good workout. The Booby Mouth-Discharge Of Helpless Verbiage on my left, but across the aisle; and with Noise Cancellators mitigating the effects of uncontrolled energy-dumping.
At Dulles, a long immigration queue; but knowing Pal Patrick would be waiting to collect me lifted the travelling-spirits. Patrick carried me here, and In the lobby of Hotel Acceptable, Sylvain & Marcello were waiting with guitar for practising.
All is well, then.
A walk around the block in the rain, and back to dribble. Dribble.
"Music is the architecture of silence."
