I was under the misapprehension that a toilet in an airport would be easy to get to, but instead, you’ve got to walk down a half-built concourse, behind painfully slow tourists. All I wanted was a fucking slash. I received a brisk walk instead. #Changeforgoddamlife
I went into Wetherspoon’s, and got a soft drink – this place, a synthetic pub chain, has more soul than the rest of the airport. Stansted feels like it sucks the soul out of you, possibly rectally. A special kind of freak vibration after London. Or perhaps that’s just Essex.