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...so you can't get your head through the door, as Elvis Costello once sung.

I'm in the lounge at Heathrow, waiting for a flight back up to Newcastle. The glamour of it all - listening to four different people talking about different IT projects, and how far over 60 hours they worked this week. I have a feel that the geeks may not have inherited the earth, but they are certainly making a killing on air miles.

Security doesn't seem massively stepped up - I didn't notice any extra police, and wasn't searched anymore than usual. My hotel had set up a bag search at the front door on Friday. By last night this was a scan up and down with a hand-held paddle. I'm not sure that this wasn't to reassure the guests more than anything else. Maybe folk are getting worried about being sued if anything does happen and they haven't taken precautions...

Had a great time yesterday, though, wandering around Covent Garden in the morning and then surprising an old friend at Kew Gardens by jumping out from behind a tree (well, by standing on some stairs, but the same principle applies). Had a very nice meal afterwards, and probably shouldn't have indulged in the last whisky back at his place.

So back up to Newcastle for a few days, and then who knows? The world is the mollusc of my choice.

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