06.36
Red Carpet Club, Heathrow Terminal Three.
Rising at 03.55, taxi call at 05.00, and into a relatively empty Heathrow. I was the first through the opening door-shutters of World News for today’s FT, and now in the Club prior to boarding.
Behind me: a Booby. An American Booby, he has been attempting to clear his throat. The bathroom would be a better location for this much plumbing work, but – hey! why not share uncontrolled mannerisms & richters with those around us?
There is a quietness, a certain kind of attentiveness, at Heathrow these days that I first experienced on the morning US bombers took off from behind Real World to attack Libya. I was flying to Washington, for a Guitar Craft course, and it was the first occasion that English police carried guns in plain view, deliberately displayed.
12.58 Red Carpet Club, Concourse D, Washington Dulles Airport.
A full flight, uneventful other than the quality of the arrival snack. Astonishing, even for an economy snack.
Calls to The Minx, onstage and waiting to soundcheck at Briston Colston Hall, and the Sistery Person, in her San Francisco office.
13.48 An e-flurry with all manner of arisings concerning the aspirational, the incompetent, the historic & the stuff of business.
21. 34 Camp Caravan, Royalston, MA.
A delay at Dulles, caused by rain in Boston limiting the traffic. We Dulles left an hour late & arrived at Logan half an hour late. Along the way, there was a wonderful view of Manhattan, 32,000 feet below. Walter collected me & we arrived here around 20.00. Door to door: 20 hours.
The Mary Pearce room has been allotted me. It is very cold, but there is an electric heater in the room.
Dribble dribble.
"Some things protect themselves by being what they are."
