Departing from Leeds. pt2.

Leeds airport is fairly silent this morning. Contrasting quite with Leeds city centre and that rush to clock in. Dropped my bags in the oversized section: 8.6kg. This time no "emergency" sleeping backups. Last time round, between Bézier and Lourdes, I carried around two kilos extra for no reason. And I returned the book I was reading, "In Praise of Slow", to Wetherby Library yesterday: I found the author quite an Ego and super middle-class: once or twice he got me, but mainly I was rolling my eyes at his constant name dropping and feeling he didn't really know that "slow" is at every level of Being.

On Monday morning I saw Marie in Emotional Support for our monthly counselling session and we discussed the book by Carl Honoré. At that point I wasn't about to ditch the book, but on the journey over to Wetherby to visit my mother and catch up with Lola, Hungarian Vizsla, the book was mired in these very middle-class suburban, urban gentrification stories and it made me feel sick while simultaneously reminding me of a JG Ballard novel I'd read years ago: Millennium People. Funny how distant memories can be expunged from the dusty boxes long hidden away, and quite frankly forgotten, to bounce out, or pop out, clear as day. As an author JG Ballard never wrote anything fictional which didn't provoke me. He was very humourous really in the dystopian world he often dreamt up.

There are plenty of over bronzed fat retirees heading out with me, to Tenerife or Alicante, this morning: voting to leave the EU, destroy a future generations hopes and still keep the cake of living on the Costa del Mierda, but (hopefully) dying from the overheating southern European shores, with checked off skin cancer, and diabetes inscribed "meat and two veg" on their huge tracts of loose, wobbling skin. As this couple muttered banality to each other I put my boots back on and went to urinate because there is peace in this simple act!