Musings, on life, universe and the daily small happenings within our 'compound' (the hothouse) concerning writing, music, gardening and jam making, etc. firstname.lastname@example.org
Monday, 30 April 2012
Oh, alright then.
I don't like being told what to do much, especially by an illuminated sign in Bournmouth airport.
It rather reminds me of that bit in Hitch hikers guide to T. G. when our heroes discover a plane full of people in suspended animation and they are woken every 40 million years or so . . .'return to you seats, coffee and biscuits will be served, return to your seats . . .aaaahhhhhh!!!!!
EAT SHOP AND RELAX. Suppose I'd rather starve, save money, and get very tense, its my choice. Perhaps if you are seen not to be doing at least one of these things they will call security, and make you wait outside in the rain. I did drink some hot chocolate, which was made incidentally by Eddy Grant: I didn't know he lived in Bournmouth. Then I looked at some sunglasses until a shop assistant came and told me I looked nice in a pair which made me look like a deranged fly. I didn't relax as I had to keep looking at the board in case it said, 'put that f•••••• sandwich down, and run very fast to gate seven.