Well not so much despair, more like boredom. And I think it is probably stacked circles like a vertical packet of Polo Mints. But whatever. As Herr Captain made his spiel the only word I caught was Biggin Hill.
Frequent fliers will know that can mean only one thing: inbound congestion at LHR and Swanwick have put us on hold. So settle back into your Recaro seats as the Captain banks the plane sharply to the right and deja vu sets in as the twinkling lights of south east London far below go round and round and round and round like aviation's answer to Groundhog Day.
And then it ended and we were down. So that was nice.
Sa Calobra, a Mallorcan Mountain Meander...
6 months ago