My private jet.

After getting to Leeds-Bradford airport before sparrow's fart, following zero sleep, I was somewhat groggy, and when I saw my flight was boarding I rushed to the gate in a panic. There was no-one there! Had I missed it? A member of ground crew pointed to this view through the window. "That's your plane, you are the only passenger!" I got the full safety demo right by my extra-legroom seat, which I usually ignore but had to pay full attention to as she was eyeballing me. I may also have thanked her. Very out of it. Apart from being empty, the cabin was spookily quiet - no crying kids, being squashed by manspreading fat guy in next seat or having to get up to let people in or out. No sticky sweets or crisps underfoot. Bliss. This is the way to travel if you can afford about 30 grand (guesstimate) for a single trip. Bet old Boris or Sunak’s never had to travel in a flying cattlewagon. The staff carried my bags, the announcements were personalised (“Anne, we are starting our descent into Mahon airport”), bags carried to big shuttle bus just for me, border control snake barrier opened to go straight through, where they called me “la unica”! Smiles all round with airport personnel. At baggage reclaim an airport employee was waiting with my case. To top it all, I was met by smiling partner and wagging dogs in the arrivals hall. First extra is me, shattered but home at last. Second is the sun coming up halfway through the flight, third is "my" shuttlebus, usually shoulder to shoulder with other passengers, last is my first glimpse of an overcast Mahon harbour, and the other two are views of the cabin. Apparently the flight had had to go ahead because there were 150 passengers booked to return on it, although it was fun pretending I was a VIP.