Boredom

Birmingham Airport eh? Lovely place to spend 5 hours of your life, unable to sleep. Still, at least they have the interweb so I can bore you with sleep-deprived drivel for 10p a minute. I've run out of people to text, and unsurprisingly, no one's answering. I suppose it is 25 to four on a Thursday morning.

Still, I can think of worse places to be stranded waiting for a festive flight home. Like Stansted. At the risk of sounding all American-touristy, the people here are so friendly! Very weird, you don't quite realise the "London thing" until you're spoken to politely by a 17 yr old youth in Starbucks at half past two in the morning. I actually felt he cared.

The other weird thing is that now, as the airport starts to wake up, it is no longer just me and the 25 or so other vagrants who I've been staring at since 1am - other people are arriving and the place is taking on a semblance of normality. And I'm actually getting a bit defensive. Go away! This is my airport! Stop getting in the way and making me queue for stuff and talking excitedly to one another!

I think I'm in the early stages of sleep deprivation combined with the Guinness I had before leaving London finally wearing off. So far this evening I have had a latte, read Maxim from cover to cover (took about 15 minutes. Although I did get a free soft porn dvd with it - here's hoping they have to search my bag going through security), had 2 fags, finished off reading the Confederacy of Dunces (and actually was rooting for the lead character by the end - no mean feat), bought another, larger latte and topped it off with a 2 day old re-heated panini from Starbucks. Ho, ho, feckin ho. But for some reason I am not half as depressed as I normally get whilst travelling. I think there's something odd about being about in the twilight zone - I kind of like it. Now, there are noisy check in announcements and kids and people with brummie accents everywhere and babies whinging. As Ignatius J Reilly would say, I can feel my valve tightening.

I hoped that at least a pub might be open for me to soothe the pain / make me unfit for flying, but apparently they have some degree of decorum here and only Spar is selling stuff. Mind you, with the fog the way it is, I may well yet be spending Christmas here, so best not to peak too early. A Wetherspoons boil in the bag sausage and mash would make a particularly fine turkey dinner-replacement. Just hold the peas.

There's something slightly annoying about paying premium rate fees for internet access and then not being able to look at naughty pictures.

I think I may have drunk too much coffee judging by my waffling, and have certainly written enough that I very much doubt anyone will still be reading this sentence. So, in summary, blah blah blah-did-de-blah-blah. This is the problem with travelling for me. I am forced to spend many hours alone with only my inner voice for company - and now the wonderful world of blogging gives you a scary insight into the inane ramblings that plague me when I'm not in the company of others. You think I talk shit? I hope this entry assures you that my thoughts go through a distilling process that master whisky makers would be proud of before being allowed to develop into statements.

Anyway, I had a lovely last few days in London before arriving at this point; my work is left unfinished with a storm awaiting me upon my return (deadline? what's a deadline?); I had a great night out yesterday with the polish massive and the ex-pat brigade; saying cheerio to the young lovely was a bit of a wrench this evening but hopefully she'll like the present I bought her enough to banish any pervy thoughts of Pharrell Williams from her mind after she saw him at the Academy tonight.

A text message! Woo! From my mum. Bless her. I think she's worried I'll fall asleep and miss my flight. I might not reply to wind her up.

Or I might pace the terminal again and have another fag and another latte.

Peace and goodwill to all, I hope Santa comes and empties his sack all over your living room, and you have a very merry and caffeine free Christmas.

tatt x