…and because today I am not in the mood for text, lets have a picture of Caramello, a baby rabbit:
Intermission
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Monthly Archives: April 2008
T5. It’s not pretty. Not at all.
These days I feel very, very sorry for the employees of BA. Especially those working in Terminal 5. When, 2 days ago, our friendly captain finally flew us out of Aberdeen and Heathrow, he was quite optimistic that we would arrive with only 1 hour delay. But then the rainclouds hit London, and we put into a holding pattern over Heathrow. After finally landing, we waited twenty minutes parked in front of our gate waiting for someone to switch on the guidance system and man the airbridge. A clearly exasperated captain sounded very cynical during his last cabin broadcasts. Poor bloke. When we finally got off, we were 2 hours late and I had missed my connecting flight. Inside T5 things felt very unfinished. Screens weren’t working, cables were dangling freely around. The three BA members organising me a flight with a different airline were sounding very hopeless.
One said he feels like a clown in a circus of Shatnerian proportions and the only thing left for them was smile.
Terminal 5: The revenge.
I know I shouldn’t have made fun of Terminal 5. Now I’m sitting here at Aberdeen Airport, waiting for my flight to Terminal 5 to leave. And of course it’s delayed by 45 minutes. That means I will quite likely miss my connecting flight.
BA will always have its revenge. If I would be William Shatner, I would probably raise my hands to the sky and yell “Khaaaaaaaaannnnnn”.
Or would “Willlliiiiiiieeeeee!!!!” be more appropriate?
Crazy Water
Just a little hint that there’s the video of Was (not Was)’s new single Crazy Water
Have fun.
TV-licensing in the UK, providing the best TV in the world
Lacking a TV, last night the best girlfriend and I watched the highly entertaining, strangely gripping, though utterly pointless Polar Challenge by the BBC’s Top Gear crew (and a plethora of support vehicles) on the BBC’s Iplayer, uninterrupted by commercials. Prior to that, we laughed our heads off listening to the Radio 4’s The Now Show (conveniently served onto my Ipod via the miracle that is podcasting). On my way to the airport I got competely immersed in the stories of the second world war codebreakers in Bletchley park. My day outside work is pretty much scheduled around my favourite Radio 4 programs, all free of advertising. After living in New Zealand for so long, having to endure pretty much the worst TV that is on this earth I truly enjoy the miracle that is the BBC: TVNZ and its competitors (yes, even though John Campbell is an utterly charming, enthusiastic and at times even funny presenter, he can only do so much with the stuff his editorial team is dishing him out. And while Carol Hirschfeld might be one of the most intelligent and the most attractive woman in television, even she can’t make 30 minutes of lame ‘current affairs’ more interesting. Please, John and Carol: more Paxman than Susan Wood) show mainly regurgitated American light entertainment, interrupted by 17 minutes of (loud and cheap) advertising per hour, with bloated news shows that find Paris Hilton more interesting than elections in France and a tractor falling over in Temuka (with interviews with the farmer, his wife, her cousin, the ambulance driver and the minister for occupational health) more interesting than the political crisis in Pakistan. Documentaries ? Either you would get the excruciating ‘human interest’ stories a la 20/20, or shoddily researched, sensationalist fodder from such sensasionalist 30 minute shows like Close Up. But you get what you pay for.
So here I pay my 140 pounds per year (which equates to roughly 40 pence per day) and I do it happily.
40 pence a day for Clarkson, John Humphreys and the Now show? A bargain.
Messaged from the Outhouse 