I’m here in Sweden again for the rest of the week, working for an interesting client who is making a sizeable investment in creating a long-term strategy on Ogre, which is obviously a good thing. It’s a little under the radar for the moment so I’ll leave it at that until a more appropriate time 😀
Luckily my back held up for the trip, despite carting luggage and 3 flights with fairly small connection windows in between. I was really sore this morning, but I didn’t snap in half so that’s an overall positive.
I had to pass through Manchester airport this time, which was in many ways better than going via London and having to switch between Gatwick and Heathrow. I used to travel through Manchester every other week a few years back, either on my way to Dublin or to get into Manchester itself, but I can’t believe the place is still being renovated - it was last time I was there too.
Bizarre experiences while travelling:
- Watching a woman trailing about 100 metres of wool as she wandered through Manchester terminal - a ball of it had fallen out of her bag without her noticing and made it look like she was trying not to lose her way back
- A motion-activated recording on the entrance to the baggage reclaim that went off literally every 15 seconds as people passed it, explaining the very same thing over and over and over again. I was a hair’s breadth away from picking up the nearest fire extinguisher and smashing the speaker into tiny little pieces before it told me not to forget my baggage for the 376th time (after all, I had heard it this many times precisely because I was still waiting for that baggage she kept banging on about)
- Escaping from a labyrinth of booze and perfume - Manchester airport’s new layout involves a sign saying ‘Gates’ with an arrow that just leads into a sprawling mass of duty free perfume and alcohol stores. Sure most airports have these, but other airports at least have a ‘corridor’ around the outside or through the middle that leads to where you want to go (i.e. the plane) - not so here, you literally can’t see the exit, it’s just a chaotic maze with assistants hovering around every corner. Eventually I managed to find my way out, and without a single bottle of gin or Yves St Laurent. Lucky escape.
- As I was boarding my final plane of the day, the wife of a couple who were directly in front of me in the aisle suddenly started projectile vomitting everywhere. Literally spraying all over the place like she was auditioning for a part in the next Exorcist remake. Luckily her husband was in the way otherwise it could have been a Mr Creosote incident for me too. Nasty. This delayed my final hop while the poor cleaners got called in to deal with it.
I’m back at the weekend, anyway.