Land? Maybe

Swooping back up from an aborted landing in Manchester was a bit concerning.  We had been on final approach, a few hundred feet above rooftops, when the pilot pulled the plane back up again.  Rooftops disappeared and we were soon back above cloud level.  It looked as if we were heading back to Belfast.  After what seemed like an age, but was probably 5 minutes or so, the stewardess took a call from the flight deck.  We couldn't hear what was being said, and she masked her reactions quite well, but the rise and fall of her eyebrows gave away her level of concern.  After the call she said nothing to us, but scurried down to the back of the plane to brief her colleague.  Finally the captain came on the tannoy.  "You may have noticed that we discontinued our landing,"  (we certainly had), "we can't be sure that the left-side landing gear came down fully." My rising anxiety was quelled a little by amusement at the words "discontinued landing".  Clearly they are trained to avoid the more scary "aborted landing" We toured the clouds for ten minutes or so, banking into turns, and we heard a clunk every now and then as the landing gear was tested.  I was beginning to wonder how much fuel was in the tanks!  Then we heard two clunks almost in unison that sounded like the landing gear on both sides being deployed.  We were still above the clouds and the pilot announced that all appeared to be well and we would attempt another landing.  After a long, slow, shallow descent we touched down smoothly and taxied to a remote part of the airport. Fire and rescue came on board to make sure everything was okay and we were eventually allowed to disembark.  The second flight, across to France, and the rest of the journey went smoothly.  It's always great feeling coming home to your loved one.  N had made a lovely meal and we sat out on the terrace until midnight, chatting and catching up.