A café, Frankfurt Flughafen no less.

The pleasures of a fast run to Glasgow airport occlude with the sickly Frankfurtian realisation that two bottles of whisky are adrift in a Heathrow cafe. One's new yob habit of velvety audio swaddling has lent to a general forgetfulness....pleasant nonetheless. Especially for the lucky cafe waiters of Terminal 2.

Eminem sets the mental tempo as neue Germany swarms around me. Waitressing by Thailand, sweeping by Czechia, neighbours from Poland and lurid purple jump suit passersby could only be Russian.

Acht. Sext. Neun. A language just made for marching. Late 1920’s and a re-militarised Germany - get a big enough army and you’re just going to have to get all that marching to done; Poland's spacious countryside must have made perfectly good sense.

3 hours to kill before St P so had thought to wander into Frankfurt but my newly replaced and now securely appended whisky prohibits my leaving the airport.... fond as I am of the intended recipients......another few hours of zwei....funf.....bitte vas.....could be alles fur alles.

child's play I dont think

....so how can I get the damned snap to skip from camera to ether..?

Perhaps by threatening it....... yes that seems to have done it and one slips calmly into intrepid fumugatory mode. Dont like it blowing over'em that Gyppo lot.

Last minute shopping then an early nacht for the 06:30 and the first of six flights between now and the finale of 2006.