Another quiet day Stroll out early morning, to take a few pictures of typical life in America. Don't think they'll amount to much, but one never knows. It's hot and humid and there's lots of low-level ozone around, so don't venture too far today.

Hot stuff Back downtown, to visit the Dallas Museum of Art. It's kinda groovy, in a museum-like way; there's a massive steel sculpture going right up the front of the building, through all the floors. Imposing.

I'm done just after lunch, so ride the light rail to the terminus and back. It's swift, doesn't have too many stops, and darned punctual. The Midland Metro (23 stops on a 15 mile journey) needs to take notes. And it's air conditioned, which is great on a humid day like today.

Where do the mornings go? Sleep in till almost 10, which is most unlike me. The forecast is for extreme humidity and possible thunder, and I need to pack, so a great excuse to lay in again. Then pack, look at more possible houses, and say goodbyes.

Flying back So to the airport, and my flight to Newark. It's scheduled for a 9:20 departure, and it's about 30% full. I have a whole row to myself. Cool. Unlike the traffic jam to get up into the air. Though we leave the gate bang on time, it's pushing 10:15 before we actually take off. Great.

Why the delay? A thunder cell on our path, blocking departures to the north. We hit some turbulence while the flight attendants are passing round drinks, and I wind up with half a bottle of water on my lap. With the neck pointing downward, most of the water ends up on my lap, outside the bottle. Yuck. Wet, dripping, yukky. The attendants do their best to help clean up, and the captain signs a pass to the business lounge as an apology. Heck, stuff happens.

Five hours after arriving, and having consumed lots and lots of free coffee and snacks, I head to the plane home. Unlike the one from Dallas, this plane is full. To bursting. Once we're all on, the captain informs us that there are a few problems with the brakes - they're broke - and it'll be 20 minutes to repair. This isn't 20 Texas minutes, around 30 by the clock. It's not 20 Noo Yawk minutes, exactly 6 minutes 43 seconds for the rest of the planet. No, this is 20 Newark minutes, 20 minutes of slothful delay, incessant standing around talking about how unfair it is to be so close to the Big Apple yet merely get the pip, and general procrastination. Finally, two earth hours later, and not before we've all been baked by the air conditioning turning into central heating, we push back from the gate. In no more than 30 minutes, we're airborne. The cabin staff thank us repeatedly for our patience, and I have just six words to say to Newark. You *are* the worst airport. Goodbye.

The guy on my left has long legs, and it's awkward to get us both seated comfortably. The chap across the aisle is a heavy snorer, and nothing - not even an "accidental" kick to the ankle - will stop him. It's going to be a disturbed night.

And on... Thankfully, the flight itself is uneventful, though breakfast is the usual fruit and a bagel mess. How come no-one does omelettes like Air Canada? Or cereal? Baggage claim is a mess, though. It's 35 minutes between touchdown and the *first* bag appearing. "Operational reasons" alleges the spokesmodel on the intercom. That ain't good enough, it tells us sweet FA about what went wrong.

Rest of the stuff: Still no verdict in the Dando trial, and the Archer one drags on. Microsoft won't be broken up, erstwhile Yugoslav president Milosevic is in Den Haag to face the International Court of Justice, and Yugoslavia looks like it's breaking up as a result.

Back... From the parents to home proper. Things are pretty much as I left them, though mother had a tidy up last week. Bah.

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