My flight from Munich to Gatwick has just been postponed from 18:15 to 19:25. According to the schedule, I was supposed to fly out at 17:50. “Freezing fog,” explained the fellow who checked me in. He had a bit of a twinkle in his eye. When I asked him whether further postponements were likely, he said that they were not. Now that my flight has been postponed twice, and that I have more than an hour by train from Gatwick to Reading, I know that I am in God’s hands. As I write, the departure time has gone back to 19:10. The precision is impressive, to be sure. Anyhow, there is nothing I can do about this mess. Actually, the only thing I can do is to enjoy myself to the hilt.