Airports

The good news: the splint and bandages are off, I have an impressive scar but at last I can type again. The bad news: humanity sucks. I can't describe how little I'm looking forward to trying to fly home on Monday from Heathrow. As I've got older I've become a more nervous flyer, and this really isn't going to help. Rationally, I know that the safest time to fly is probably right after an alert like this. Irrationally, it makes me distinctly jumpy. Added to that, from a purely selfish perspective, I'm dreading the hassle. It's bad enough flying from Heathrow at the best of times. Now on top of the inevitable queues, security checks and assorted indignities comes the likelihood of being barred from taking reading material or music on board. Six hours of sitting there, bored and scared, chewing my nails, and that's assuming all goes well and the flight actually leaves more or less on time. Cosmic, as Rodney would say.

Obviously I'm pissed off at the nutters who threaten us with mid-air explosions, I'm far more pissed off with the politicians who deliberately pour vinegar on Islam's wounds, putting their own citizens at considerable risk and inconvenience. I can't wait to get out of the UK and I'm in no hurry to come back to this failing state; but I look to be heading back to a country where things are heading in the same direction.

In the meantime I've dug out this snapshot of a contrasting way to fly. No check-in, no queues, no security, everything is hand-luggage, and flights are short and interesting. Preferable in every way.

Details: Minolta X-500, 50mm lens, exposure not recorded. Masai Mara, Kenya, January 1997. Placemark.