1 May 2015, 12.30 pm
I am in a taxi back to Glasgow airport, with Team CIPA. Team CIPA is feeling a little bit fragile
this morning. Apparently this is because
the drinks in Glasgow clubs are very cheap, and not at all to do with the fact
that they therefore consumed too many.
I wonder if anyone filmed the action at the club last
night. I am thinking a clip of Mr
Lampert doing his dad-dancing (for which he is justifiably famous) would be a
great addition to the diversity videos.
In the taxi, we empty our bags to see how many paracetamol
we have between us. Luckily we have quite
a few. I also have some fragranced hand
wipes and a bag that may or may not be sufficiently leak-proof but might just
serve to protect the upholstery.
We arrive at Airport Security. Forgive my digression, but Airport Security is
completely bananas these days. Not only
do I have to find a separate plastic crate for every one of my electronic
devices, including the ones that are asleep and have been for days; I also have
to remove my boots, my jewellery, all but the very last layer of clothing and anything
that might have been holding me together, for example belts and braces, pins
and Blu-tack(R). There appears to be an obsession with liquids,
whether intended for systemic or topical use, in vivo or in vitro, and to help
with this there is a large poster at the entrance to Security saying “What is a
Liquid?”, just in case the wetness and flowingness and general
not-wanting-to-assume-its-own-shapeness of a liquid had passed you by up till
now.
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