Flight to Vancouver
Four hours in Heathrow, waiting for the flight to Vancouver. There are a lot of people, all passing through to somewhere else. Killing time is an art form, helped by duty free, WH Smiths, Harrodsburg Sunglasses boutique, Dixons travel, all eager to relieve you of whatever currency you happen to be carrying. People watching passes the time. Solowey hat man, Walkers crisps laptop girl, headphone man, sleepy guy. Tick tick, tock, only its digital and counts the time to the gate. On your marks, get set, go, rush to the back of the queue ready with your boarding pass and a nine and a half hour flight.
By the way, there is a school somewhere in the world that all immigration officers attend. The only lesson consists of the constant playing of comedy shows and electric shocks being applied to any student who as much as smiles.
Once graduated they are free to return to their country and take up their stony faced positions, warmly welcoming sleep deprived visitors to their country with a well practiced grimace and a grunt.
Hope the jet lag wears off quickly.