Thursday, May 24, 2007

And here we are again, in transit. Part two.

(Please note: this was all written last week. Or on the weekend. Or something. Oh, I don't know anymore. Anyway I hadn't been to the East Coast Blogmeet yet.)


Through the miracles of modern blogging, you may or may not see this part two before you see the first or even second parts of part one. You see, I’ve donated part one to Zoe who is rather busy with her not-exactly-top-secret project that may or may not have something to do with writing a literary magnum opus. So over at her place, you’ll see part one (in two parts, part one part one and part one part two) in two parts, said parts of which each may, in part, precede this part two.

At least, that’s my understanding of how it’s going to work.


EDIT: actually, part one part one and part one part two are already posted here, too. It's all very confusing really.

So – having spectacularly failed to update any of you my actual time at The Great Big Genome Centre That Isn’t Terribly Close To Anywhere In Particular™, I find myself on a plane.

Again.

It’s different this time though… one of those spiffy Airbus things with the back-of-seat, on-demand entertainment systems. You know, the kind where you irritate the person in front of you by punching the touchscreen to select your menu choices, flipping through all of the options just in case there might be something slightly better than Music and Lyrics, featuring that same baffled British actor as was in the movie you avoided watching crossing the Atlantic in the opposite direction, three days ago.

As I write this, I’m actually watching some concert video of Coldplay, live in Canada. And I can say this: they’re not as crap as I’d always suspected. So now you know. But the other options are just too dismal to itemize here.

Other things I have learned during this trip:

1) The pied wagtail is a very handsome little black and white bird that runs around on the ground in an endearing manner.

2) There is no free wireless internet in Heathrow airport, despite the prevalence of unsecured wireless networks. You connect, and are immediately presented with one of several screens describing in agonizing detail the various and assorted ways in which one might pay for internet access. Faced with this, the coin-operated terminals in the “overflow seating area” of Terminal 3 look positively democratic.

3) A cab from that Genome Centre to Heathrow is over 100 UK pounds. I have now set a new record, far surpassing the $60 US I spent getting from Phoenix Sky Harbor airport to Scottsdale.

4) Coldplay songs all kind of sound the same.

And I’m now on my way to a certain East Coast Airport where I shall, if all goes well, meet legendary Blogger, Theatre Person, Photographer, and Performer Of Many Choral Works™ Dawn, unless our plans completely fail. Either way, I’ll doubtless tell you all about it some time later, possibly appearing either before, during or after this post, part one of part one, part two of part one, or maybe just not at all if I can’t get the timing right.

It’s very complicated to be me.

7 comments:

Rik said...

£100? Crikey! I'd have driven you to the airport for that!

Anonymous said...

You was ripped off, mate. It would have been cheaper to fly from Stansted.

Trains and busses from Cambridge to London, surprisingly are pretty good.

Anonymous said...

Oh, and everything sounds like Coldplay, now.

Richard Wintle said...

bk - heh.

I'd seen a link to that before, but had never watched the video.

Heh. It's funny, because it's true. Just like how in 1988, everything sounded like U2.

WrathofDawn said...

Okay, now even I'm confused.

Did we meet? Hurry up and post! I can't stand the suspence!

Anonymous said...

I'm glad the afore mentioned past possible tense 'not' parts-there-of blog meet went so well...I gave up paddling mid pacific to join you convivial folks...but..one day perhaps. Regards from warm late autumn days in New Zealand.

Richard Wintle said...

Hi edt - yes, it went absolutely lovely. Sorry you couldn't join, hope you got your dugout canoe (or whatever) paddled safely home.