Naturally I was pleased for all those poor souls stranded from Bombay to Bogota (and thankful for the sake of our queasy economy), but it was with a heavy heart that I listened to the first 747 drone and rumble over my house at 9.55 last night en route to Heathrow.
The first one comes over at 4.20am on most days when the customary wind from the South West is blowing. We've got secondary glazing on all windows but I can still tell you from my bed if it's an A380, 777 or a screeching 747-400. And this morning Heathrow is lobbying the Department of Transport to allow all-night flying to clear the backlog of stranded aircraft and trolly dollies. So we're all in for a rubbish few nights.
Call me a small-minded nimby but I thought Mayor 'Cwipes' Johnson was onto something when he came up with his 'crackpot' idea to relocate London's Heathrow in the middle of the Thames estuary to the east of London. It may employ three quarters of the residents of Hounslow and Southall and offer rich pickings for armed robbers in search of gold bullion but London's main airport brings more than its fair share of unpleasantness for millions.
In today's bulletin: