JC booked a holiday for us all in Spain. She and her husband kindly collected us by car and drove us to the airport 300 miles south.

There were all sorts of problems with the plane’s facilities. My Canadian cousin DT was not prepared to use them, so forced the pilot to stop on the runway during take-off so that she could visit the bathroom in a nearby house.

Later during the flight, when I made an attempt to open the plane’s toilet door, the steward told me off for doing so.

I tried to make the peace with the steward by admiring her beautiful pale green eyes. As the words spilled out of my mouth I realised that I should probably be paying my compliments to a plastic surgeon.