Thursday. We’re off. India. Land a million curries. A billion people. 42,000 known forms of stomach upset. 1200 Hindu Gods. With 92000 limbs between them. And lots of curries. Did I mention those already? Good. I love curry.

But that always supposes we take off from Heathrow. The weather’s nothing special, no ice, no snow, no hurricanes forecast, just dull and grey, neither of which bothers jumbo jets in the least. The problem this winter is what has rapidly become our national malaise: strikes.

Everyone’s doing it. First (and pretty much always) it was the tube. Then the other railways. And now, just in time for the busy, busy holiday season, its the airlines. Virtually all of them. Initially at BA it was the flight crews, but now the baggage handlers have joined in too. So far the pilots have been pretty quiet.

So here’s what we’re gonna do. I’ll make the sandwiches (I’m a great sandwich maker, as long as you’re not on any kind of diet or allergic to any kind of food, because everything’s gonna be in there), and I’ll shlep my own cases onto the plane. Mel will load them up and then I’ll do the pre-flight announcement. I’ve always wanted to. “BRACE! BRACE!”

“In case of sudden de-pressurisation GET OFF THE FUCKING PLANE!!! or, use the oxygen masks that will drop down automatically”. Attend to your own mask first and then, if they haven’t already suffocated to death, sort out any children or old people. You life jacket is under your seat unless some obnoxious little bastard hasn’t nicked it to inflate in the swimming pool in Torremolinos to impress the babes. As we used to do.

If necessary, Mel will do the flying, because she’s much more safe and considerate with vehicles than I am, and you never have to parallel park a 747. I’ll sell the duty-free. Cash only.

>> So I must warn you. If, for any reason we don’t take off as scheduled (we booked these flights last January) you will, on Friday morning, read a rant the likes of which has never graced these ‘pages’. Please don’t partake if you have a weak heart, a mild disposition or a problem with fucking swear words.
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Happy Saturday

A xxxx