When the taxi comes
It arrives in around 7 hours actually, of to grab us and our baggage and cart us off the Manchester airport at Stupid-O-Clock in the morning. I don't really mind being in any given place for a period of time, but I'm really not keen on the travelling in between part of it all. Taxi's at some god awful time suck, airports suck and airline meals they wake you for at 4 in the morning excel at pulling a golf ball up a hosepipe type sucking if you understand me. Not even is business class worth the indignity of being cooped up with ones fellow travellers in an alloy tube for 7 hours. When will they get round to inventing the Star Trek style transporter beam - how much would that help I wonder? No doubt my bags would still end up diverted to Dhaka by Heathrow baggage handlers.
On the subject of bags, they're all packed now and will hopefully escape the attentions of the BMI weight limit police on the check-in. Passports are at the ready, as are the tickets. The only thing to do now is to see if I can grab a couple of hours kip before the damned alarm goes off again. Guess I'd perhaps better sign off - next post from sunny Riyadh. See you soon.
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