|It's weird walking through an empty fairground on a cold winter's afternoon|
The flight itself was smooth. I sat in seat 4a and once seated the poncy pampering began. The steward referred to me as 'sir' and brought me tea in a proper mug, water in a proper glass, and then my favourite, a peppermint tea, also in a proper glass, not forgetting a kind of beef panini thingy on a porcelain plate along with steel cutlery wrapped in a cloth napkin. Behind me the proles were being told they'd have to pay for their M&S 'grub', their tea would arrive in paper cups and nobody was going to call them 'sir'. I felt like passing my dessert through the curtain to the needy people sitting behind me, but it was so nice I scoffed the lot without a thought for the proletariat, and then had a crack at the crossword.