France: day 1

There is nothing quite like terminal five of Heathrow airport to catapult one through time. I spent the morning amongst the leafy trees of Thrupp listening to the quiet flow of water and peace of the country side. I drank tea, packed and had breakfast in the glorious tea rooms. It was good old England at its best.

Maffi flung me in the car and we sped to the bus station whereupon hankerchiefs were waved and goodbyes exchanged.  I hate goodbyes.  Maffi has waved me off quite a lot so it is always quite fun these days.

The bus arrived and the grumpiest bus driver with an attitude problem waved us onto his bus.

An hour later and the skies lowered, the walls close in and terminal 5 engulfs one.  I don't think it gets more modern than an airport does it?

Instantly i found myself in the 21st century.  There was no denying it. Nothing to remind me of the old world I had just left.

One never needs speak.  The computers process one, the buzzers declare one safe (or not) and before I knew what had happened I had been processed.  I wasnt even sure I HAD been processed but a telephone call assured me I had.

A flight, an arrival in France, an underground train, tunnels to more trains and then alleyways to the roads that led me through tall buildings to my hotel. The buildings are so numerous, so tall and so shiny....it must take a lot of polish to get the shine on them.