It is 10.30am on Thursday at Gatwick, and Jenny and her friend Alison, both 63, are drinking champagne. It’s an elegant scene. They are on a stopover between Barbados and Guernsey, and neither are planning to get drunk and kicked off their connecting flight. Alison describes the unique drinking culture at an airport. “We don’t know what day it is, never mind what time,” she says. “There aren’t any windows, so you can’t tell if it is day or night. Everyone is in a different time zone anyway, so nobody is looking at anyone else thinking, ‘They’re starting a bit early.’”
The perfect environment, in other words, to enjoy a morning drink. But now I’m casting around my mind for every other place on Earth where one might have a breakfast beer or glass of wine: cricket matches; bottomless brunches; weddings. In every one of those scenarios, a good number of drinkers would be carousing after half an hour. But the airport is so serene.
