The hat.

There’s a man. And he has a pony tail. He wears glasses. But the new addition to this ensemble is the hat. I’ve never seen one like it ever before. It’s the sort of hat you expect dreads to be tumbling out from underneath but he’s as Caucasian as I am. I’m fascinated by it because it’s wrong on so many levels. I think he wore it intermittently to begin with but now it seems to have a permanent berth on his head.

Anonimity preserved (but it does imply some wrongdoing).

Anonimity preserved (but it does imply some wrongdoing).

It’s made of leather in white and tan. It has a peak. I’m not sure it goes with the rest of his outfit, but funnily enough I’m starting to get used to it. It’s become his ‘look’. Wouldn’t be my choice of headgear, nor would I rush to grow a ponytail, but fair play to him, he’s comfy with it. I daresay even his colleagues have stopped staring at it and normal eye contact has been resumed.

Hats, eh.

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Officially Autumn.

Is there an official first day of Autumn? I don’t know, but I do know that I don’t need one. The day I have to turn on the heated rear windscreen in my reasonable-in-every-way Ford Focus is the first day of Autumn. And that day is today. Sure, it went a bit Indian Summer on us later in the day and the forecast is for even warmer weather, but today I used a button I haven’t touched since May, so Autumn it is.

Press here for synchronised dancing cobras.

Press here for synchronised dancing cobras.

Trampolines on a plane.

It’s amazing what you can buy at 32,000 feet.

Is it any wonder short haul planes run out of cheese sandwiches when the hold is full of trampolines just on the off-chance that passengers with a penchant for duty-free gymnastics equipment decide they need to buy one from the in-flight magazine.

Damn - the airport trampoline shop was shut. But wait...!

Damn - the airport trampoline shop was shut. But wait...!

Staying in Frankfurt.

There’s been a period of silence on this blog, partly because I’ve been away on a short business trip in Frankfurt.

So what’s it like? Here are 5 things you need to know about Frankfurt:

1. Their taxis are beige. Almost exclusively Renault and Mercedes.

Ein taxi, as they say round these parts.

Ein taxi, as they say round these parts.

2. The people are extremely welcoming and courteous. And their English is better than mine.

Evidence of someone from Frankfurt being welcoming.

Evidence of someone from Frankfurt being welcoming.

3. The city itself (the fraction that I saw for myself) looks very drab. Possibly the Allies’ fault for flattening it in the war. Possibly a harsh and uninformed opinion. But none of the Frankfurters I spoke to rushed to its defence either (verbally speaking – which of course is the best sort of speaking).

Frankfurt perhaps at its best - blurred and at night.

Frankfurt perhaps at its best - blurred and at night.

4. Frankfurt International Airport is the European hub for Lufhansa. It is not an insubstantial airport. But the the terminal we were in had 60 gates, all served by a single sandwich bar. That’s about a fifth of a cheese sanger between all of them. I fly to Nimes 2 or 3 times a year. The airport there is little more than a golf clubhouse with an x-ray machine. It has 2 places to eat. I rest my wheelie case.

A view from the only food outlet available to me.

A view from the only food outlet available to me.

5. It has trams. Lot of trams. And most of them seemed to pass about 15 feet from my colleague’s hotel window. Very early in the morning.

Tram with hotel and colleague's room in background.

Tram with colleague's hotel room in background.

Posh Parking in Stevenage.

Quite literally a high roller.

Quite literally a high roller.

Possibly the most expensive motor to ever grace Swingate: an 09 Rolls Royce. An Alan Sugar special. It’s an absolute monster. Next to my Focus, it’s higher, longer, wider and shinier.

But can he get a slow punture fixed for £17? Can he bollocks.

I bet he’s got a warning triangle though. God knows where mine’s got to…

What is it with airport carpets?

I flew out of Luton airport the other week. I was staring down at my feet waiting to board my flight.

A ploy to sell more Priority Boarding passes?

A ploy to sell more Priority Boarding passes?

And then it hit me: airport carpet.
Where do they get it from?
Who designs it in the first place?
Who approved the design?
Who at Luton said, “Yes! That’s the one we want!”
How long has it been there?
Since the 80’s?
Even this design goes beyond the 80’s excesses.
Do they want the queasy to throw up before they board the plane?

No one would have this in their own home. Would they?

I accept airport carpets need to be hard-wearing, but do they need to be so hard on the eyes?

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