Small screen

I wouldn't put my trust in a satellite television company that can't spell the word television correctly on its huge billboards. This ad, outside our compound walls, has got my inner pedant motoring every time I've seen it in recent months.

The office today was a ridiculous race to the finish, dealing with things that cannot be done remotely and leaving with an unachievable to-do list of things that just about can, yet invariably won't.

I will never ever learn to leave more time between field trips and departing on flights. To top it off Janet came to me 10 minutes before I was due to flail to the airport, as I'd said once upon a time that I would show her how to create a YouTube channel (completely winging it as I have no clue). Because her voice is like a chorus of cherubs trumpeting from fluffy clouds in the sky, I thought I'd be gifting joy to the world to show her how to upload videos. But it meant I sacrificed washing; never a great idea after a day in tropical heat. Apologies in advance to those who I'll encounter on the journey home.

Died In Your Arms by Cutting Crew came on the radio in the car, which temporarily distracted me from the panic of being late for the flight. I did make it in time. The airport staff had recently undergone 'process' training when I was here last month. Some of the early enthusiasm has now waned. The invasiveness of the body search has not.

I'm flying with KLM late tonight. Dutch is up there with Hebrew, Khmer and Geordie in languages that, to a native English speaker's ear, sound like a particularly random cacophony of sounds. No offended intended to the Dutch. I hope Elizabeth, half Dutch, one of my great Cambridge pals and a notorious blip stalker, will emit a wry smile upon reading this.