I got separated from my minder at the airport and ended up being bundled onto a tiny plane with seats for just eight passengers. A friendly-looking man sat down next to me. He hung his curly red hairpiece over the seat in front of us, then kindly turned to speak to me in French. Then the pilot announced that we were setting off, and the plane stuttered into action.

We hadn’t even made lift-off when the pilot told us that she had forgotten something. She brought the aircraft to a standstill, handed over the controls to a white-haired old lady in the front row, and disembarked. She was not coming back.

It was now obvious I would be very lucky to make it to Switzerland on time, if at all.