The feeling when you find out that your flight is going to be so long delayed that you will need to tuck yourself in ‘bed’ between closed Costa Coffee shutters and a bunch of airport trolleys. You knock out your third coffee and a box of macaroons, finish another pointless article in a glossy magazine and do yet another stroll around the closed airport terminal shop windows. Then you get on the flight at 4am, land at 6am and are at work for 8am fresh. Or as fresh as you can pretend to be…

Your colleagues then ask you? How was your weekend? Just had another quiet one I will say… 🙂