It was supposed to be my job , according to Queenie, to give the Scots a good kicking for not letting us win the Six Nations at the weekend, but sadly I failed to do my job, because I missed my flight. I hit that weird little pocket of everyone piling into Dublin airport at the same time and everything going slightly wrong and managed to miss check-in by about five minutes, which of course means missing the flight completely, because you can't check in online for the Glasgow flight, even if you've no baggage. So, thanks, mister drunken arsehole (I assume) who drove precariously in the fast lane in front of me on the motorway at 60mph between Balbriggan and Donabate, and who I was afraid of overtaking on the inside for fear you would choose that exact second to pull into the inside lane.
Thanks also to the good people of the long-term car park, who had one single barrier open when I arrived, so I had to sit in a queue of cars to get my ticket, and then park in Zone Y.
Thanks very much to the driver of the bus from the car park, who didn't notice that our bus was totally rammed and that we were all sitting or standing there, waiting to leave, for ten full minutes before a passenger got off the bus and shouted at him to get us to the terminal so that we could get our flights, please.
And a final thanks to the good people at Aer Lingus, who have done away with all their actual check-in desks, and now only have Bag Tag 'n' Drop desks, so that if your flight has just closed and the machine tells you so, you have to go to the Ticket Sales desk to plead to be let on, and there's only one of those, and the queue was, I am not exaggerating, all the way to the door of the Departures section. So I gave up and went home again, stopping to pay €8.50 in parking fees for the privilege of parking for half an hour.
Still, at least I went to the correct airport, unlike some people in my family who were also flying that day.
Also it was the perfect excuse to start reading Master and Commander again.