I write screenplays, mostly to indulge my wayward creativity but occasionally for a film producer or director as a commission. The commissions are always a challenge as normally it involves taking somebody else’s idea and turning them into a commercially viable screenplay. Although that does occupy the creative juices, to a degree, they have to be controlled to fit within the parameters of another person’s limitations. Yesterday I had the luxury of sitting in a Costa Coffee Shop at an Airport for two hours, waiting for my wife to return from visiting her family in France. As usual the flight was delayed. As a writer, pen and paper or at least a laptop accompany me everywhere, so I had an opportunity to do some creative doodling. What a wonderful canvas for an imaginative mind, watching people wait and then greet friends and relatives arriving from all over the world. To me, all great stories exist because of interesting characters. At an Airport the supply of possible candidates for the next intriguing, mysterious character is endless. Writers should be observers with a blank mind at the ready to create the next James Bond, Miranda Priestly or Hannibal Lector. I saw them all yesterday going or coming from somewhere. James on entering the arrival lounge immediately contacted M on his iPhone as Miranda strutted past with her girlie entourage dressed in Vivien Westwood ensembles’ following in her wake. The Lector look-a-like (without the mask) leered on as he selected his next victim. I was amused by the old guy in his Bermuda shorts with his Wensleydale Sheep legs exposed to the elements. The young couple who had obviously been apart for so long that the young man was devouring the girl’s neck in a copy-cat Vampire attack while she studied the deco of the airport ceiling. Not forgetting woman who removed a sweater from her exploding suitcase and then struggled controlling her escaping clothes for the next hour. People often ask me where do I get my ideas from, and I always answer the same, “from other people”.