My mind is racing; I am in a state perpetual list writing. A weary business traveller on the red eye, it is Monday morning and I am delayed on a flight from Manchester to Norwich, with a full day ahead of me knowing that this delay is going to throw the day, nay the week, out. I am tense, I feel it, it is almost tangible and I know my fellow passengers are feeling it too. They shuffle uncomfortably in their seats and they ooze the stress of the Monday morning commute. As I observe their behaviour, my stress was also clear for them to see. The actions of someone who needed to be somewhere and was stuck, acutely aware of the consequence of what was before them, my blackberry winking angrily at me from my lap. Trying to relax, but the very idea is almost absurd. A delayed plane is the ideal time to sit and think, to be, a time for reflection and, put simply, to do absolutely nothing… but this was something that evaded me, try as I might.