This morning I was up early, at eight o’clock (well it is Sunday!), to make a telephone call to my good friend, Rolando, who lives in Brisbane. As per usual, initially we spoke with Scottish accents (for some strange reason he is always Doctor Finlay and I am Janet – from the old television show, “Doctor Finlay’s Casebook”) before reverting back to Aussified English and Anglicized Australian respectively – ironically, Roland is the English one.

“There is something I have to tell you,” he said as if daring me to guess what it could be.

“You’ve booked up for a holiday to England,” I answered. (Well, what else could it have been? He’s been thinking about it for at least three years.)

“Aw, you stole my thunder…”

“But it wasn’t a bolt from the blue. Anyway, how marvellous!” I marvelled.

“Better still…”

“You’re flying first class!” I interrupted.

“No, business class – I’m not a millionaire you know,” he laughed.

“Who are you flying with?”

“Thin air.” (Well that’s what I thought he said!)

“Thin air?” I burst into laughter.

“Finn Air, F-I-N-N Air, the Finnish Airline,” he laboured whilst howling with me.

“Not the Irish Airline, or the mermaid airline company?” I asked.

“No that’s called Morefinn!”

“Which is what you need when you travel economy class,” I added.