Livin' it up at the airport

I can happily say that I am presently sat in utmost comfort in one of Heathrow's business class lounges. I am feeling smug, which negates my previous feelings of sadness and loss after saying goodbye to my family. It was pretty awful, to be honest, a real emotional rollercoaster. However I soaked up my tears in the taxi with a piece of Bounty kitchen roll, which I can now confirm *does* actually perform better than any other leading kitchen towel.

I talked at length with my driver, Bob. We discussed the benefits of globe trotting, why I should definately visit San Fransisco, and I finally sang the theme tune to "The Littlest Hobo" as I felt it was appropriate at the time.

I skipped all of the economy class queues, (which serpentined far into the distance) and checked in at Business Class (airily named 'Premium Laurel'), where I made a joke about the weight of my non existant shoe collection in order to distract the check in guy from the fact my case was over the weight restriction. Apparently it worked, as he beamed at me, attached a sticker on my case stating "Priority Load", and it was whisked away by a super efficient attendant - no doubt to its own luxurious lounge to have it's zippers polished.

I made my way through endless security checks and rows of shiny cosmetics counters - all claiming to change your life, make body beautiful and give you lips like Angelina Jolie. I valiently ignored their attempts to spray me on the way past. After all I am a human, not a cat.

Finally, joyously, I entered through some tinted glass doors and flashed my ticket to the reception staff. Breathing a sigh of relief I headed straight for the refreshment zone in the far corner, where I was delighted to find self service beer taps, of which I availed myself immediately. (What did you expect?)

Thus, here I am sitting in a cosy work station, writing this tale of sorrow and joy; highs and lows. The only thing that I am certain of is that I can only get higher. Like 4000 feet higher.

Now I am going to carry on being brave and strong, with my friend in the corner. His name is Carlsberg.