GOODNESS me, Terminal 5 is a bit fancy, isn't it? All that glass, the swish technology, the signs pointing in the wrong directions...
I do like Terminal 5. For all its extravagance, the one thing that appeals the most cannot be produced by wealth and pomposity. I don't need a Harrods in an airport terminal, and I'm just as happy to go to Upper Crust as I am to Wagamamas. No, what I like about Terminal 5 is the atmosphere - this is a spacious and light building, and most important of all, it is relaxed. Nobody is in a hurry, nobody in a panic.
It is 9pm. Our direct flight to Budapest, which was supposed to take off forty minutes ago, has just been cancelled. In British Airway's defence, it isn't their fault. Air traffic control problems over Maastricht have thrown European flights into disarray. I've gone to fetch the bags, Rachel has gone to negotiate a new flight.
It is 10.30pm. We're sitting in Rachel's kitchen, with new flight passes and an horrific 3.30am start ahead of us. At 6am we will finally be off, with Austrian Airlines this time, to Budapest via Vienna. We should be in Budapest by now, sipping champagne (possibly) on our hotel terrace. Instead, we're in Buckinghamshire. Ho hum.