Here's a little intelligence test for you:

You are meeting a passenger at Edinburgh airport who's arriving on a plane from Duesseldorf, Germany. Where do you wait?

A) Domestic Arrivals
B) International Arrivals

If you answer B, you are a total moron, you idiot. International Arrivals is for planes that come from abroad, ok? Well duh.

I could not believe it. There I was with my little sign, waiting. The arrivals monitor showed the Duesseldorf flight landing slightly early, then said "Waiting for luggage", then "Luggage in hall". People came out and other people holding signs greeted them and led them away. An old lady was brought out in a wheelchair ... but no, she was someone else's old lady.

Finally I approached the information desk.

"Oh the Duesseldorf plane comes in through Domestic Arrivals." Apparently it stops in Birmingham. "So why does it say 'Duesseldorf' on the arrivals monitor?" Shrug.

I hustled down to the other end of the airport to the scrum at Domestic Arrivals, scanned anxiously for a lost-looking old lady. "No, dear, but I am waiting for someone..." said one candidate.

I went back to information and asked them to page my missing Duesseldorfer. No nibbles.

Here there's an interlude of frenzied phoning activity -- I called the train company to see if I could find out if she'd gone to the station under her own steam, they gave me a number that wasn't answered no matter how long I left it. I phoned the family the visitor is staying with to see if she'd phoned them. I had her paged again.

The host suggested she may have got off in Birmingham, so I went to the British Airways desk. While there I suggested that it might be nice to have had some indication that the Duesseldorf plane was a Domestic Arrival. "It's on the board in Domestic Arrivals," she said crossly. Of course, I should have looked there rather than think the monitor at International Arrivals meant anything.

By now I'd had her paged enough times to suspect she'd gone to the railway station but I didn't want to leave until I was sure. So I rang the train company again a few times before finally getting a human being. She took my details and said she'd phone me back. I bought an espresso and tried to chill. She phoned and said yes, the woman I was meeting had got the train I was supposed to be ferrying her to.

Great. I phoned her hosts with the good news, finished my espresso and went to get my car.

I'd parked in the one-hour car park because that's how long I was going to be. I'd been there three hours. It cost me £8. EIGHT POUNDS!!!

I had been thinking I would return the hosts' gift voucher, seeing as how I didn't complete their task. But jeez, Louise ... I think with all the phone calls and sweating and scurrying and then the huge parking fee, I deserve a little treat.

I'm quite pleased the mystery visitor made it to the train station under her own steam, without fuss (I hope). Always nice to see someone exceeding expectations. And I was also pleased that I didn't lose my temper once, not even with the British Airways airheads.

After the airport fiasco I had to go into town anyway to take bits of my old computer to the computer shop to be inserted in my new computer(!!!!!), traffic horrendous, and back out to walk Bertie.

I'm now in an advanced state of exhaustion, soggy with lack of sleep and running around.