Archive for May, 2012

The Third Law Part 11 – Easyjet living

Tuesday, May 15th, 2012

I’m on an EasyJet flight from Luton Aipowt to Berlin. Sat quite comfortably on a front row aisle seat having forked out £20 for speedy boarding. Worth every penny. In fact had I forked out £12.50 in advance I could have been sat in the ServisAir Executive lounge before hand. As it is I spent most of the waiting time eating lunch and doing emails and still left enough juice on my laptop battery for the whole flight ahead of me.

We were 20 minutes late taking off. 5 persons had made last minute decisions not to travel which meant that 5 bags had to be retrieved from the hold. You wonder whether one of them had a premonition. The real reason is almost certainly mundane. Bad back suddenly got worse, phobia about flying returned, straightforward family argument (again!), etc etc etc. I stuck in three etc’s there but in reality I couldn’t think of any more reasons on the spur of the moment, which was almost certainly the way they decide not to travel – on the spur of the moment that is – it’s unlikely that they had taken a lot of time to think about this or they would probably not have bothered checking their bags in. I will never know their fate and tb quite h not in the least way concerned.

Whilst in “departures” at the airport I purchased a copy of the Daily Telegraph for £1.20. This was only to (more…)

The manflu epidemic

Saturday, May 12th, 2012

They fell where they sat
settee, armchair or bed
the sickness took them
aspirin soon exhausted
bottles of Lucozade
scattered empty and liberally
on the floor around them
face cloth doused in water
but long run dry
falls off the forehead
and is not replaced
the victims fall in
and out of sleep
left alone for long
periods of up to
fifteen minutes
whilst their partners
selfishly get on
with the housework

The old man and the handcart – Lincoln municipal tip, Great Northern Terrace

Monday, May 7th, 2012

We were driving down to the tip at Great Northern Terrace and passed an old man pushing a handcart. All we had was an old carpet. The handcart was piled high with what looked like bits of an old boiler with its steel chimney. He held a steady pace – looked as if he must have been pretty fit.

He belonged in a Hovis advert really, with his flat cap firmly on his head and a look of determination on a timeworn face. I almost felt guilty driving past him. He must have come a fair old distance as there were no houses nearby and here we were in the car with just a measly bit of carpet. Did I say guilty? I think I probably meant inadequate.

We got to the tip and disposed of the carpet in the appropriate hopper. As we were leaving the dump the old man arrived at the entrance, no letup in his speed. We drove off. I wouldn’t recognise him again, unless perhaps he was pushing a handcart, with that same flat cap.