Day two: the flight into London and on to Inverness

The Gatwick airport is a lot like our world. Having packed away my books in my checked baggage, I had the opportunity to sit there and people watch for several hours and I learned a lot.

It is a gateway for both internal and international flights. Scotland though internal has an external flavor when checked in.

At the security gate I scan my boarding pass and it asks me to look up, I wonder what they wanted me to look up, maybe something on the Internet or phone? Finally the lady who was helping out folks like me said to look up and I saw four colored pin point blinking lights and in a flash the door opened and I passed through, and I realized that my retina had been scanned. I felt invaded, only my doctor had the right to know what my retina looks like, and that is protected under patient confidentiality laws, here in the airport every Tom Dick and Harry has access to my retina.

Moving into the airport the they herd everyone through a narrow section, which is literally a booze and perfume shop and goes on and on. Most people got stuck there; the few that moved on got stuck in a fast food grocery store, and bought food that had no resemblance to food. It consisted of plastic sandwiches with no taste and no nutrition.

As I sat and sipped coffee at Costra I had reminders everywhere telling me that coffee was equal to love. Strange associations.

Those like me who deliberately escaped the perfume and booze had more variety of shops waiting for for every interest under the sun.

Trying to find a coffee shop that sells only food and no booze was impossible.

As I sipped my coffee I watched women and men, odd and unmatched couples. The raw lush thickness of hair in the women and girls was oddly lost. Only one in eight women had healthy hair and the rest has stringy over processed hair, usually streaked with blonde highlights.

The restaurants were overflowing with bars and hard liquor was overtly inviting to all.

Bad stringy hair primarily comes from a hormonal disorder, poor nutrition and or over processing at the stylist. In these women, all three had come together. Only the Africans had escaped who kept their thick-coiled hair as is.

The rogue chromosomes of the genetically modified wheat were wrecking havoc with people’s bellies and weight gain, while the hormones in dairy and meat were depositing fat in odd places. The hair was screaming out in its stringiness bearing witness that nutrition was poor. It was strange and unnerving to watch a cross section of Europeans with similar body habitus and hair.

15% of the women were wearing hijab so I could not assess their hair, however most other than Somalian women were over weight and untidily dressed.

Even the children were affected and sported stringy hair.

Our world has become a Gatwick, an enclosed space feels like a Nebraska feed lot where cows cannot move and can eat only what is in front of them. Here we are being fed hormone laden dairy products, over processed and chemical bound food, and are told again and again that less (clothes) are beautiful. We have nowhere to escape to. The chemical companies that are researching into developing grains that will grow exclusively with their own brand of pesticide or will die strictly control the food lines.

Meanwhile I long to be in prewar Syria where the ground is untainted by American pesticide companies due to the blockade. Thank God. Unfortunately that has changed with the war. The methodology is to first make people destitute refugees in their own countries and then send them tainted food supplies and get them addicted to the doctored grains.

My jet lag is catching up after 24 hours of traveling and waiting. Sleep is weighing heavy on my lids…………



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