Apparently, This Kiwi Can't Fly

It serves me right for showing off. My Christmas turned out to be about as un-Kiwi as you can get. On my day of departure last week, I did a 7-hour bus trip to Heathrow only to be caught up in snowy chaos along with thousands of other people. Let's be clear about this: It was handled abysmally badly by BAA. No one had any idea what was going on. They just told everyone to go away.

Last Christmas Eve, I slept on a bench at Gatwick. This year I spent hours slumped on a small patch of tiled floor at Heathrow. I plan to spend my holiday next year in a janitor's closet at Luton, just to complete the set.

I moved flat in the last week or so. Here's the view from my new window. That snow has now been lying for 9 days. I think we made it through a full week without the temperature getting above 0C. It's fricking freezing in here, Mr Bigglesworth.

Here's the view from the window at work, during the week:

I've actually had a lot of commiseration and sympathy from people, and meal invites, which has been quite touching. In the end, I went to my boss's place to join their family dinner, which was very nice. We played drunken Pictionary, where I was accused of not getting the answer "tent" correct, because I was saying "tint". Thanks, England - way to burn off my sentimental feelings towards you.

Anyway, with a bit of luck I'll get to NZ some time soon. It'll be a truncated visit, but that's the way it goes.

Thanks for reading. As I said to the guy at work who fell off his bike on the ice and ended up with his arm in cast: "Have a good Xmas break". Oops.