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The flight to Pisa takes about 2 hours from Manchester. My wife who hates flying, had taken her "happy" pills and was now wearing her "I don't care about anything" look while smiling inanely. I exchanged pleasantries with a lady on my right sat next to the window who I discovered was flying alone to meet up with her family in Italy. With oceans of pasta on our minds we munched somewhat half-heartedly through our "lavish" in-flight meal of sausage, fried (?) egg and beans.

The white peaks of the Alps passed far below us...as the man in the seat behind tapped the lady on the shoulder asking "if it was her money under the seat?" almost instantly she plunged head first under the seat...I couldn't help notice the sudden appearance of a couple of new rounded Alpine hills that blocked my view of the peaks. My wife gave me a "what on earth.. but I really don't care anyway" look.. after several minutes with her head under the seat and various bodily appendages appearing and disappearing.. the flight resumed its "normal" course.

For the English a flight to the sun usually involves divesting several layers of clothing in anticipation of warmer climbs. We had begun our descent from 30000 ft with the blue of the Med clearly visible through the window, when the lady inquired. "Are you of a nervous disposition......?" Not a question I could answer too confidently when flying at 30,000 ft.

"Would you mind if I changed into a wig ?"

"Errrr no..... I don't mind..." was I think my less than convincing reply.

"Well its like this...a few days ago I got a phone call from the family in Italy, to say my son had broken his leg and not to worry. Off course, I was beside myself with worry... and was ready to jump on the next flight out. After a few minutes they revealed that it was all just a joke."

"So I thought to myself how can I get them back...the thing they really hate is me with short hair...so I have bought this short wig...so that I can wind them up"
Now off course this was all perfectly plausible ...bizarre certainly, but just about believable. But as she reached into her bag and pulled out a bundle of hair and... a thought sprang into my mind that she could be a hijacker...after changing her appearance...no... she didn't look like a hijacker...no. By now Norah had had a couple of glasses of wine and was nodding with another "whats going on.. but I don't care anyway" look on her face.

A few minutes later we dropped out of the sky and avoided the Leaning Tower as it zipped past and

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