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zzz and wtf?

Have now been awake for over 24 hours and counting so entirely possible that I'm hallucinating... but swear I just saw a man with impressive moobs showcased in a VERY tight t-shirt, nicely paired with skintight snow-washed jeans, a massive cowboy hat and a curly perm. Euww.

The evil bits of the 80's are apparently alive and well and living in Washington Dulles International airport.

Flight delayed again. Apparently they can't find a spare pilot. The plane may or may not leave at 1am. None of us are holding our breath. BB is sleeping like a... well... a baby, thankfully. The rest of the passengers are either sprawled out on the airport floor in a comatose state, weeping (those still on standby) or tapping away on some form of electronic gadget. There's a remarkable air of fortitude and comradeship going on amongst those of us still awake and/or not in tears; I love Americans, they're invariably so brilliantly and relentlessly positive.

Have decided that I'm quite keen on Dulles airport and that it's a pretty good place to be stranded in. Free Wi-Fi, phone and laptop charger points everywhere, plus a ventilated smoking room (!! in America !! In this day and age!!) with, brilliantly, a plate glass window so I can park BB right outside and keep an eagle eye on her while I indulge my slummy habit. If only the Starbucks stand was open 24/7...


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Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …