Stuck at Gatwick airport in the snow and ice.
In a flurry of flight cancellations.
I just want to be in Amsterdam at Christmas.
Coffee at Kandinsky's would be really nice.
Bing! Bong! Important information...
You have been denied your destination.
All flights are now grounded.
Please contact your airline
for further sympathetic dispensation.
That's ok for you, Mr Announcer,
with your slightly bored and condescending tone,
but have you looked outside?
It's blowing a blooming blizzard pal,
it's 04:30 in the morning,
and now I'm stuck a long way from home.
Get the optimistic head on,
things could be worse.
At least I'm not alone.

So now everyone is mooching around,
some ski-holiday kids are crying.
A Russian woman,
with high cheek bones and eyes like boiled eggs,
is in left-wing denial.
I help an old couple to move their suitcases
to the uncomfortable chairs
next to the lifts.
The drunk Germans have suddenly sobered up,
and the Bulgarian boys,
in leather coats and winklepickers,
denied tonight in Sofia,
are scratching shaven heads
and clenching jewelled fists.
Me?...I'm off downstairs to Kosta Coffee
for a big frothy one with extra choco sprinkles.
I'll claim my spot in the comfy seats,
and read another couple of chapters
of Bury my heart at Wounded Knee.

I couldn't help noticing,
in times of crisis or disaster,
everyone get's their laptops out
or starts jabbering on mobile phones.
The 21st century security blanket.
The technological equivalent of a good old-fashioned moan.
And I can't read my book,
too many interruptions to my concentration.
I keep getting snippets
of other peoples conversations...
...what do you mean?... help...listen,listen...
...load it again...have what you want...
...stop crying...what did she say?...who?...
...nothing new...I don't decide when...what?...
...come back here...tell me about it...
...too much trouble...can't believe this...
...did you see what she wrote about you on her spaceface wall?...
...lucky you...should have stayed home...bad day...
...the cat did what?...touralie touralie touralie ay...

So I just sat there, in the middle of it all.
In the eye of a humanitarian storm,
a confetti blizzard of other peoples sound bytes.
An exploding fragmentation of inner emotions
and impotent frustrations.
Oooh, little snowflakes!
Look what you've gone and done now!
Spoiled everyones holiday plans.
Some kind of twisted festive paradox.
Dreaming of a white Christmas.
Stuck.
Grounded.
Canned.