There will be a short interval of silence from this space. On Saturday morning our fragile forms will be encased in a fuselage under the direction of a budget airline. A sustained mechanical effort requiring significant combustion of generous amounts of aviation fuel, will be made to propel this object at enormous velocity into the upper atmosphere, at the same time guiding its trajectory in a south-easterly direction. If this can be satisfactorily achieved, in due course, measures will be applied to restore the object to ground level in a controlled fashion, according to a set of spatial co-ordinates carefully calculated to bring it to a point of rest in Milan.
This is my least favourite means of transport, but as you can see from my scrapbook pages below, advertisers have always sought to portray aviation as a source of joy unconfined. Not such an easy sell today when the experience has been so degraded by security and stripped of glamour.
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