Blue, not maroon
You step in the stream,
but the water has moved on.
This page is not here.
The sleeping pill ensures I get some rest, but it’s not a comfortable flight. We land far away from the terminal at T5 and wait for buses to ferry us across the tarmac.
In the terminal there are queues everywhere. The flight connection ePassport gates have “crashed”. A Windows Blue Screen of Death is on display: No_Pages_Available. As one wit pointed out “at least it’s blue, not maroon”.
I go through a different immigration path to get to the arrivals hall and then go back through security to get the Edinburgh connection. There’s even a queue on the FastTrack lane.
My car is waiting patiently at Maybury. In the Straiton car park I take a couple of calls. One is voice only with an academic in Norwich who is doing research into Agile Software development. The other is a video call with a manager of a development organisation in London. Both are made on my mobile phone.
I pause to consider how technology has made communication so easy, toy with the feeling that it allows work to become invasive, and conclude that I should go do some shopping in Sainsburys. I buy enough food for the week, and gain an extra chunk of Nectar points.
Familiar pattern at home. Light fire. Feed chooks. Cool food. Work at kitchen table.
Claire comes down as night falls. We eat fajitas. I can’t find the grater or the corkscrew.