I’m surrounded by agitated people.  I don’t mean to overhear the conversations but something about the volume of the voices and the fact that I can understand the language makes it hard for me not to hear them.

The people look miserable.  It doesn’t seem to matter if they are passengers or airport staff.  Everyone looks like they wish they were somewhere else.  I’ve just glanced up from my computer and the guy working in WHSmith is scowling  at me.  It’s probably just the look he constantly has on his face working here.  I’ve no idea what sort of look I have on my face and thankfully there are no mirrors about to show me.

I’m in Manchester airport this morning and it’s really horrible.

When I arrived I couldn’t work out what terminal I needed to go to.  It didn’t tell me on my flight details and there were no obvious signs inside the airport.  I tried looking at the departure board but this was terminal specific and I appeared to be in the wrong terminal.  I ended up walking around for 20 minutes until I found a board that told me which terminal I was meant to be in.

To get to Terminal 3 I needed to walk between buildings.  This wasn’t a long walk but it nearly ended up being a dangerous one.  There are holes in the pavement on the pedestrian walkway!  The wheels of my suitcase got stuck in a hole and I nearly fell over.

Now that I’m in the right place I can’t check in for hours.  There are very few seats but I have been lucky enough to find one in a coffee shop.  I know that part of my horror is culture shock.  The floor is filthy and I’m expected to set my laptop bag and handbag on it.  I’m used to everything being so clean in Tokyo and even when it’s clean there are places to set your  handbag.

I’m also not in great form because I am going to have to put my handbag in my suitcase as I’m not allowed to carry on a handbag and a laptop bag.   This will put my over the allowed check-in baggage weight costing me 10 GBP per kilo (I hope my books aren’t as heavy as they feel.)