The early bored special

My ride this morning was scheduled with the same service that picked me up from Heathrow nearly a month ago.  Because they were 40 minutes late last time, I booked for 10:30, to give myself plenty of time to get a backup taxi if they didn't show and still make it through the airport rigmarole.  This time, however, they showed up half an hour early, which sent me scrambling to get myself together before my 15 minutes of complimentary wait time were spent.   I was allowed to check my bag in nearly 5 hours early, and sent through a special security line where hardly anyone was waiting, even though expedited screening has never been less necessary.   My purse was pulled aside for a pocket sized bottle of hand sanitizer which I've taken through TSA at least twice before (while my carry on, which contained a similar but fuller bottle, whizzed right through), but I was still inside the terminal well over 4 hours before my flight time.  With no gate assignment to guide me, I retreated, again, to the club lounge, where I now find myself.  There are no privacy walls between the seats here at LHR, but there is space, quiet, a soft chair, password protected wifi, and a much larger number of lavatories per capita.  They seem to be playing an old Café del Mar compilation I've often heard on repeat in places that are intended to be perceived as swanky, which is amusing in a way, but not unpleasant.  If I must be in an airport for 3 more hours, it's better for everyone involved if I spend it hiding here, with my diet soda and chocolate eggs.