- Insisting we arrive at Heathrow five hours before the flight was due to depart.
- Engaging the very chatty Canadian woman next to her in a three-hour conversation about... well, fuck all, whilst I tried to sleep.
- Getting lost in the lift. Twice.
Apparently we are here during a heatwave. This is something of a shock, as it was barely 30 degrees Centigrade today. Apparently tomorrow (after today's "record breaking" temperatures) it will be back to a "more seasonal" average. This worries me. I only have one pair of long trousers. Sucks to be me.
Everyone here is a bit suspiciously friendly. If you ask them for directions (which Mrs Nunn does about once every 2.3 seconds), the Canadians smile at you a lot and touch you on the shoulder. This disturbs me. A woman who we'd never ever seen before said good morning to us. Things like that don't happen in London. And if they do, your new friend is probably a loony and you're within your right to shoot them.
I think they might all be stoned. We shall see.