Seems like every time my plane encounters turbulence, I invariably find myself clutching the hand of some old woman of exotic nationality and trying to keep her from crying. God knows I'm not a relaxed flyer myself, but in this kind of situation I find it's best to play your poker face At any show of nerves, the foreign lady might scream, I might scream, and at that rate the plane would never get down.
(In case you're curious why I hate flying, I can trace it exactly down to when I took this video of our takeoff from Lukla, Nepal. I literally spent this entire flight delivering my soul up to God. This is also where my first encounter with a crying Nepalese mother took place.)
I arrived back in England this morning only to forget which side of the road cars drive on, an incident shortly followed by the bungling of a coffee order. In other words, it's just as I remember. After one look around, I'm packing my bag for Malta where I'll be for several days scoping out the Mediterranean Sea and . . . well, hopefully doing very little else. In the meantime, keep watching the skies.
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