Far from Express

I didn't select return flights wisely so had a very long wait in transit in Amsterdam. I felt like a dried up husk so used some sample moisturiser on my face in a duty free shop. The shop assistant didn't take kindly to it. Her glares deterred me from sampling the deodorant, which was also much needed.

I think I might start listening to more country music, which I'm starting to bop to whenever I hear it. Perhaps it's the jaunty melodies juxtaposed with themes such as saloon shoot ups and the failure of the cotton harvest. It might just be because Cher looks badass on the cover artwork for Just Like Jesse James. I hope this doesn't make me a Republican.

It was raining at Heathrow, which smashed the rumours of unseasonably good weather in the UK. After an already long journey the coach ride back was torturously slow, weaving through the likes of Hemel Hempstead and Luton. The latter hosts this warehouse where they either print or distribute the Express. Good transport links in Luton but they must be mindful that a plane may one day miss the runway of the nearby airport, and plunge into the building, destroying the production machinery.

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