Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane!

It is!  It is a plane!  Or, you know, a contrail:

For all the BBC's bluster about the airports reopening, there's little evidence that the situation has measurably improved.  Some flights are taking off, certainly, but until the ratio of scheduled-to-cancelled flights is 10-to-1 instead of the other way around, I'm not holding my breath.  

(Nor do I need to, as I've acquired a head cold so massive I needn't worry about breathing volcanic ash or, for that matter, much of anything else. More updates when my cheeks stop trying to drum my teeth from my head via wave after pounding wave of congestive pressure.)