Airport boredom

I used to think airports were romantic places, with those far away places and strange sounding names. No more. Terminal 3, Manchester airport, is a necessary port of call but not a welcome one.

So, here I am waiting to board the plane to Paris, eating revolting yet expensive food, accompanied by vile gassy beer (no ale here). From Paris to Buenos Aires, where I hope to blip tomorrow. I just hope the time goes fast and that I can get some sleep on the long haul.

I don't blip family, but I should for the record note the arrival of Indigo. Mother and infant now doing fine.