My blog has been a blank for a week as has my mind.
Emptied over the Bay of Biscay as our metal tube soared through fluffy clouds and all around easyjet punters chomped through bacon baguettes and Pringles. Eating on planes ain’t what it used to be. But then nothing on planes is what it used to be.
That’s not quite right, one or two things remain the same.
There are always two, at least two, screaming/whimpering/griping infants.
There are always 80, at least 80, terrified passengers whose white knuckles are released only temporarily from the armrests to grab the bacon baguettes and Pringles.
There is always 1, at least 1, hard-nosed, been there done that air stewardess called Wendy or Sue in charge of your cabin today.
All a far cry from the days when I wandered the aisles softly chanting
‘CHICKEN OR BEEF – CHICKEN OR BEEF -CHICKEN OR BEEF’
with a hard-nosed, been there done that glazed over look on my face….