Andrew:

You’re not flying out on BA113 tomorrow, are you? That’s the one we’re booked on. Could be midweek before we get out of here. I’m cool with it, but you have, like, a job, don’t you? Commiserations.

I must say, it’s quite like old times, having on’e life disrupted by a sudden strike. I got chatting with the ticket lady at London Bridge station when we arrived here at midday. I mentioned the Heathrow strike, and said:

“I thought Maggie Thatcher had put an end to all that.”

The ticket lady, though very nice, was the wrong person to say this to.

Obviously a staunch Labour voter, she replied, bristling: “Well, it’s nice to know we British can still stand up for ourselves.” Er, yes, nice to know. But how the hell am I going to get back to New York?

The Derbs aren’t stuck with hotel bills, anyway. My niece spends the summer in her cottage in France, so we have free use of her house. Just got to get some food in, hunker down, and wait for the strike to get sorted out.