Final Approach

Stockholm is built on fourteen islands, the captain informs us, as we are about to make our final approach to Arlanda airport. One third of the city is water. (Apparently they call it ‘The Venice of the North.’) I am just hoping he doesn’t overshoot the runway and ditch us in the Baltic.

The flight has been fairly uneventful – apart from the aforementioned incident with the falling flight attendant. She apologised profusely but I told her there was no need to, as it was one of the best things that had happened to me in a long time. Flashing me a beautiful smile, she edged carefully backwards, this time making sure no part of her bosom came into contact with the - now snoring - Sydney.

The FASTEN SEATBELT sign comes on.

And now, that awful silence as the engines are cut back and we begin the descent. Suddenly - the thump of the undercarriage going down. A collective sigh of relief - well you never know if it’s going to get stuck! At least we’ve got wheels – we’re in with a chance now.

Seat in the upright position, tray folded away, hands clasped – I stare at the top of a bald head. And think.