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Terminal 5, Heathrow
Hwæt! Ic eam agin in Engelonde gecuman! Ond ic wille agin to Mancestre Or Summeþinge Aeroporte, þæt mannum Terminale V yclept is!
Right, that’s enough fake Old English unaided by a grammar or any understanding of Old English. The bus to Terminal 5 still takes 18 minutes, the security video in the bus is still inane, the English still talk with English accents, and England is as overcast and gray as it should be this time of year. Consistency is a good thing.
It was good to have travelled Premium Economy, but at the end of the day your bum is still stuck on a seat for 12 hours. however more cushy the seat is, so I still feel sore and in need of a brisk walk. And/or an internet connection; that’s a lot of writing I did in Patrician Class, on top of tracking all the omicrons ever mispelled as omegas in Byzantine Greek. (I’m a quarter of the way through the 1900 instances after two hours’ worth of work; something to keep me entertained on the train ride to Brussels.)
Did someone say Temptation of the eeePC? £130 for a Linux 4GB. Aaaaargh…