Waiting, waiting, waiting....it's what airports depend on. It's Day 1 and I'm sat here in Knock airport awaiting departure of Flight FR 80 something or other to London Stansted, grateful for the fact that at least Knock has wireless internet access. Truly Monsignor Horan saw that one coming before everyone else. Knock also has its shitty departure tax, something in all my years of coming here I've never been able to figure out. It's the equivalent of the guy who sits at the ATM, cap in hand as you make a withdrawal, except here you are obliged to fork out.
Knock also seems to be the only place in Ireland - well, maybe Mullingar & Longford too - which is permanently shrouded in fog. On the drive here, my brother commented that "at least there's no fog". But as soon as we turned right off the N17, there it was, enveloping the hill. I've had flights cancelled from Knock before because of fog - missing a Tindersticks gig in Manchester because of it! - but it seems as if we're set to go this morning.
Knock's full of grumpy parents this morning, chasing after children shouting 'Go back to Mammy.' I'll soon know how to say that in about 5 different languages. Anyway, to the sound of Neil Hannon singing of 'burritos and conceptual art' I'm signing off for now.
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