I am sorry.
There, I said it.
The reason for my apology? Well, if you happen to be flying from Bangkok to London tomorrow you’ll see a youngish (and somewhat harassed) couple get on board with an infant and you’ll know that, for the next 12 hours, you’re going to be in earshot of a gurgling, foul-smelling, noise machine.
And that’s just me! (boom boom).
I can see you now. Your eyes will widen in surprise before closing in resignation. A slight but perceptible shake of the head in dismay. A look to the heavens for strength.
It’s okay, I used to do the same.
My advice to you is to drink heavily and sleep through it.
We’ve flown long-haul with the boy before but when he was two and a half months. At that point all he could do was eat, sleep and cry. And when he did the latter it was generally because he needed one of the other two options.
Now he is mobile and very, very interested in everything that is around him. In particular (and for reasons we’ve yet to establish) shoes.
So when you’re immersed in one of the inflight movies you might feel a grabbing wetness around your ankles. If this happens and you look down to see a small but determined looking chap grabbing your trouser leg and dribbling affectionately over your new trainers can you pass him back to us?
We’ll be the people in a dead sleep surrounded by empty miniatures of vodka.