It’s very late, and I’ve just got back to the castle after my weekend away in Scotland with Ruth and Claire. I’m exhausted so I’ll keep this entry simple.

Ruth and I ticced a lot of strange and potentially inflammatory things in the airport and on the plane, but everyone was fantastic – security staff, crew, and other passengers. Highlights going through security included:

Ruth: Knife, gun and a bomb.

TH: Claire’s got 32 petrol bombs and a spinger spaniel.

When the security man commented on the weight of Ruth’s bag my tics helpfully suggested he should, “Take out the child.”

The stream of tics continued on the plane, so the safety briefing went like this:

Steward stands up
Ruth: Your penis is showing

Steward puts on yellow life vest
TH: Banana Man

Steward shows oxygen mask
TH: This is a meaningless plastic bag

Steward instructs passengers to put on their own mask before helping others
Ruth and TH: Selfish

Steward shows everyone how to inflate the life jacket
TH: Blow into it like Ricky Martin’s underwear

Steward describes what to do in the event of landing on water
TH: Mandatory beach ball in your pocket

Steward draws our attention to the whistle
TH: It’s for rounding up sheep

The crew ploughed on as the whole plane rocked with laughter.

Then we were ready for take off.

We taxied down the runway and soared up into the sky with Ruth and me shouting:

“The engine’s on fire!” and “Air travel’s unnatural!” and “Learner pilot!”

When we landed, one passenger told us it was the best flight she’d ever been on, and another woman who’d initially considered moving from her seat directly behind us, said she was glad she hadn’t as it’d turned out to be the best seat on the plane.

Ruth and I found out what the actual best seat was when the pilot invited us into the cockpit while we waited for assistance getting off the plane.