I am sitting in the cold at the Central Bus Terminal at Heathrow, awaiting the bus to Oggsford (viz. The Great Gatsby).
I have three observations in my jet-lagged state:
1. Of all the major airports in the world, Heathrow is the worst, and I’ve been to many. The corridors go for miles and, when you finally reach “Arrivals,” there is an interminable line with three desultory customs folk checking your passport. It is a dispiriting and sluggish welcome to Old Blighty.
2. Britain is EXPENSIVE, as it has been for years (I was here at the glorious moment when you could get one pound for one dollar). My one-way ticket from Heathrow to Oggsford, about an hour’s journey, cost twenty-three pounds, which is $36.50 US. Still, I’ll bite the bullet and prepare myself to shell out upwards of three pounds for a pint of British ale, which, when properly cellared and served, is one of the world’s glories.
3. I watched two movies on the plane, one of which I’d seen before and remains superb: Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas. Great acting and fantastic camerawork. The other, Avatar, I hadn’t seen before, and found okay but a bit predictable and schmalzy. I should have watched From Here to Eternity or, better yet, On the Waterfront, both available. I coulda seen a good movie instead of a sci-feature about giant blue aliens, which is what I did.