Sunday, March 27, 2011
Long journey back 'home'. Heathrow is the strangest of places. Its five terminals are like separate towns within a sprawling conurbation, highlighted by shopping malls, car parks and slipways. J G Ballard, who lived in its hinterland, was fascinated by it. Normally I fly in & out of T3 which creaks & groans under the weight of passengers, but today I'm in T5, which opened three years ago to the day. I thought T3 had a big shopping mall but it's got nothing on T5. It's a license to print money: thousands and thousands of captive customers with time & money on their hands. I pass on the Prada and Rolex but usually end up buying a (plastic) bottle of Gordon's and some chocs, even if I've no idea whether they're actually any cheaper than 'outside'.