A Spot in Time at Heathrow -Terminal 3

Six hours to wait and the departure lounge is a seething mass of intent humanity, all with one end purpose but so divided in how to achieve it. In an unobtrusive corner sits a potential writer on his way to some other place and filling in the time by observing and noting all that he sees in a gaily decorated Donald Duck notebook.

The people: Black, White, Asian, African, European or American! Small, tall, rotund, stick like or indescribable! Male, female or undecided? Holiday, work, play or necessity, they are all here and on the move.

The excited and the curious the nervous and the bored! The coming or going; the sad and the happy!

People on a mission seethe around in endless crossroads: from far above like an ants nest immediately after the foot has landed.

The well dressed and rich sit shoulder to shoulder with the flip-flopped and casual. The eager and the edgy sit next to the bored and the accustomed; lined up on rows of green coloured and uncomfortable seating like overheated waxworks on display. The business man and the hippy balk at the 1pound/15 minute fee charged by the awkward to use email machines that stand like sentries around the hall.

Checked shirts haul briefcases around that resemble steam trunks and dolled up and skimpy dressed girls lug handbags around that hold the world. Well covered Arabs are eyed carefully by the suspicious as they go quietly about, their business (as are the Hindus by the ignorant) and children run around with freedom and excitement as their parent's loose control.

Laptops perch on over pressed and creased trousers trousers and eyes stare wonderingly into little mirrors as make-up is ladled on. Crisps, coffee and chocolate is liberally demolished as boarding tickets, screens and watches are studied with constant urgency.

The Shops

The buoyant, the spendthrifts and the first timers attack shops selling trinkets and souvenirs at above the odds prices. The drinkers, smokers and perfume addicts troll through endless choices of duty free that defy easy selection and all buy bottled water to ward off advertised dehydration on the long flight ahead.

Starbucks for a coffee, TGIF's for a full blown burger, O'Neil's for a beer or the deli for a baguette?

Unattended bags lie awkwardly and under suspicious eyes as shopper's dash for a last minute tube of toothpaste, a book to read or a Gucci handbag. People collide and make poor excuses as desperation for purchases battle with the need to catch a plane looming ever closer.

Perfume, make-up or handbags all promoted by well made up and groomed assistants who give no pause for customer's reflection or slowness, often acheived by spraying liberal quantities of 'smell' into the paths of harried shoppers on a last minute drive. Dixon's promotes electronic goods at supposedly cheaper prices and key rings of Phone boxes, Black Cabs or a local Bobby all clamouring for attention against woolly sheep and London Fudge!

The Action

A coffee spills; a pram jam occurs and a boarding pass lies unclaimed and ignored near to the boy who is equally lost - could it be his?. Unintelligible announcements battle endlessly against a babies desperation for attention. There is a constant hum, made up of a weird concoction of languages and accents as nations meet and depart in queues for toilets, for bottled water and to win a car for a raffled 80pounds. Assistants struggle to cope with the endless queues that have no end and to keep up with the endless assortment of notes and the exchange rates as harried foreigners use that which they are familiar with.

And still the announcements remain unintelligible even to the English!

A turbaned gentleman saunters past lost in a world beyond and scratching his head with his finger, like he would a bee is in his bonnet. Two lovers argue over "go to gate" or "smoke first", and Mr Samson has been told that it is his last chance to catch his flight. The hippie thankfully stretches out across three seats as he attempts to wash away the rigours of a long journey and prepare for the next.

"I love you", "3 - hours difference", "I'm boarding now" and "whisky or gin, Pall Mall or Bensons"; all go to keep mobile phone companies in business. As do "arrange a meeting", "pick me up at 2.00am" and "remember to put the rubbish out" by those who feel that that they are the central cog in the wheel that struggles to turn back home.

A little Asian girl adopts another family as they wander past to the consternation of a stressed out mother with too much luggage and a trolley filled with a potential drinks cabinet. A harangued shelf stacker at the newsagents unmercifully mows down (with his laden trolley) a rather slow and amiable back packer who happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And through it all the cleaners keep efficient control by emptying re-filled bins and by keeping lost boarding cards from under purposeful feet.

Flight XXX is now ready for boarding

They all come and they all go and time ticks away - as does the writer who eventually closes his Donald Duck decorated notebook and moves on to his gate, his flight and soon to his ultimate destination.

And in turn his seat or one like it becomes occupied with another writer! One who decides to observe and to jot down the endless activity that he sees around him.

Life goes on.