Contra-Flow

Like me, you’ve probably spent a lot of time on Britain’s motorways at a brain-numbing 50mph through road works where no-one actually seems to be working. After two lots of 20 miles of that on an almost deserted M1 I found the one place in the country they were actually doing something: they had closed the roads completely around Luton Airport. It wasn’t as if Easy Jet hadn’t told me, they even sent me a text suggesting I allow more time for my trip. More time, to be herded through security, shouted at to keep moving, told to strip, surrounded by Polish and Latvian voices… not a good impression to make on those of my age for whom such things have a very dark precedent.

My ticket had priority boarding, giving me the right to be first in the queue to wait for the party of old duffers to try and lift their strictly restricted cabin bags into the lockers. Cure for more shouting from the guards…

Because of some mix-up, the people who had paid extra to sit by the emergency exits were two rows away and so there was more chaos and upheaval before the captain came over the tannoy to reassure us that we weren’t going to crash and burn but that we ought to pay attention anyway. Pilots must be trained to make announcements as if they are ‘really bored to be lifting this cattle-truck off the ground when I really ought to be in a fighter-jet’ I reckon that they time the mid-flight announcement for when the most people are asleep, waking them with a start to let them know that everything is ok and we are currently at a phenomenal height over a country we’ve never visited and we are about to go over the bay of Biscay – yeah, whatever!

I sound grumpy, but it’s not because they have taken the part of the safety demonstration out where the stewardess demonstrates blowing up the lifejacket, I always loved that, no, it’s the way that I was conned into taking this job by the Office.

‘We have spare ticket for a week in Sicily’ she said

‘You’ll love it’ she said

‘We went last year, the markets are to die for – sorry – no pun intended! Lol - All you have to do is a little job, more of a jobette, really and the rest of the week is your own’

‘OK, send it, I’d like to see where they raced the Targa Florio anyway’

‘The Wahta Floriwhat?’

‘Never mind, just send it’

Which is why I’m here, on a special tour ‘In search of Montalbano’

The TV series of the ‘Inspector Montalbano’ detective books were a hit in Italy before being shown in the UK with subtitles, which doesn’t help their popularity. The group of people that I am struggling to share a plane and yet not be seen with are the kind who don’t mind subtitles at all, in fact they love that it makes them feel part of a more exclusive club: The ‘Don’t listen and can’t lift a suitcase’ club. A lot of them seem to be retired teachers so I guess that it goes with the territory. The problem I have is that I need to be a part of the group without actually appearing on any lists as one of them. I have acted as a coach driver on previous ‘events’ but coach-driving is a bit of a closed shop in Sicily unless you are family if you know what I mean.

With only a weeks prior notice I read and re-read the background on the author, his books and filming locations so that I was expert enough to act as tour guide. One of the secrets of being a good guide is to acknowledge the person in the party who is an obsessive expert and knows more than you – there’s always one – and use their knowledge to enhance the experience of the others without letting the 'Anorak' take over

What I think Melissa will look like today

 

What Melissa actually does look like today