On airport duty

My friends were over from Budapest for the weekend checking recovery progress with Michael's mum after here recent fall. I didn't get a chance to meet them, but we arranged that I'd see them at the airport and we'd spend an hour or so together before they caught their flight back. Dublin airport is without doubt among the ugliest and least efficient you could encounter anywhere. I hate the place. It's a dreadful introduction to the city and country for travellers arriving here, and is close to being a national disgrace. Despite the total mess they've made of the place, the Dublin Airport Authority have been appointed by the government to oversee construction of a new terminal building. Knowing their track record and having experienced only a few days ago the passenger-unfriendliness of the recently opened departure Pier D, I fear the worst already, even before building work commences.

Anyway, once I calmed down a bit we sat and had a bit of a chat over a couple of pints. Michael's mother is not at all happy in the hospital she's in, Michael is very upset about the situation, and he needed a sympathetic ear to calm him down and reassure him. We parted when their flight appeared on the departures board. There's no point their going into the Departures lounge too early, since they're not into buying in the 'duty-free' shops -- apart, that is, from sausages and rashers and black and white pudding and crisps, which they stock up on every time they head back and ask every visitor to bring over to them as well.

I was back home by 3.30, and spent the rest of the day very lazily.