Airport abstract

I'm sorry. I am so sorry! I just keep imagining you waking up in the morning, sir, looking in the mirror and then in all seriousness saying to yourself, "You know what would be a really kick-ass name? Taserface!"

Beer scattered sleep, I rise groggy, shower and pack. My room in Majestic has been tidied, something I should have done on Wednesday.

Downstairs they're running an open space conference for product owners. I'm part of a panel - luckily I don't have to say much. Someone comments that my profile picture looks like it was taken in the 1970s.

After lunch I'm running another coaching session upstairs. Again, it's more like counselling, but the participants seem happy - almost relieved.

I get away early, negotiate the Friday rush hour, and check into the Admiral lounge at the airport. There's a woman pounding up fresh guacamole and a self-serve buffet of snacks, including a pot of hot chilli - good stuff.

The plane isn't crowded. I sprawl out and watch Guardians of the Galaxy 2. It's occasionally very funny, but by the end I'm falling asleep.