With apologies to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 – Shall I compare thee to a summers day?
Oh Gate A10 in Heathrow Terminal 5.
Shall I compare thee to a summers day?
Or shall I compare thee to the third ring of hell, where souls are packed tightly into buses in the vague hope they will be going somewhere?
Shall I compare these to unorganised human mess as opposed to order and jetbridges that are above thee?
Yes, Gate A10. I compare to various things I’d like to write, but alas – I do not wish to offend my audience. Least of all their fragile minds may break if I use potty words to describe A10.
Oh Gate A10. May our paths never cross again.
Although… knowing my luck, I will see thee again in March.
Oh Gate A10. No words can express what I truly think of thee.
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