The third room

She sat up on the slab. Slowly unwrapped the Mylar bodysuit, disconnected one by one it’s drips and derms and stents and catheters and waldos and sensors. Let it drift crinkling to the floor.

Claire’s flight from Dubrovnik gets in late. Then there’s a massive queue at immigration (not enough officers to oversee the operation of the ePassport gates) snaking outside and doubling up round the building. Anyway, she gets back at three in the morning.

Another chick has died. Some sort of viral infection. A third chick is acting poorly, so I isolate it. I hope they don’t all succumb.

We have a very late lunch - 4:30 - and then I finish off the day by booking a day trip to Vienna. Inverness-London-Vienna-London-Edinburgh - with a night at each stop.

Later, we try to watch Good Night And Good Luck. The DVD is dodgy and we give up half way through.