The art of queuing

It has been twenty-five years since a report of original research was last submitted to our editors for publication, making this an appropriate time to revisit the question that was so widely debated then: What is the role of human scientists in an age when the frontiers of scientific inquiry have moved beyond the comprehension of humans?

The day starts off well. The drizzle clears, we walk through the woodland, the water lily is really doing well in the pond. Angus’s rave at Cramond was visited by the forces of law and order, but they left them to play their loud music and dance till the dawn.

I deposit Claire in Musselburgh, visit Nick in Porty, and get to the airport at the allotted hour. And then things begin to go wrong.

The 14:20 flight to Cardiff is delayed and delayed and delayed and cancelled. I’m quick to the rebooking queue and get on an 18:00 flight to Bristol. When the ticket is finally issued it turns out to be a 21:20 flight, which is then delayed till 22:30.

In the end, I get to Bristol just after midnight. There’s no point getting the shuttle to Cardiff, because the car hire franchise is closed. Instead, Carly, the conference organiser collects me, baby sleeping in the back, and whisks me down an empty M4.

I’m in bed by 2am. Not ideal ;)