Hullo. Ever since I was a boy I wanted to visit Ireland. Being so near, I should have got to the Emerald Isle long before my fourth decade, especially as there are a couple of great grandfather’s of mine, dangling from a branch of our family tree, who came from Dublin. I went last week and it was worth the wait. As one gets older, one gets to see things from a more mature and considered perspective. As a young lad I would have been to busy being excited at just being on a plane to have noticed the shenanigans that were going on in it.

The flight from Manchester Airport to Dublin Airport takes thirty-five minutes exactly. Now the airline, Logan Air, has to achieve two things, get you to your destination and sell you as much duty free garbage as possible. The plane shook its way onto the runway and the steward and stewardesses began the safety briefing. The highlight for me is always when they reach the "Life Jacket" bit. They look at you very seriously indeed and then flourish a little plastic whistle, which we are told is for "Attracting attention in case we have to land in the sea". I am intrigued with the idea of bobbing about in the middle of some mighty ocean, thousands of miles from anywhere and tweeting at a whistle…right!

When we were in the air the cabin staff had only about twenty minutes of flight time to "shift" the alcohol, perfume and watches and they went to it like characters from a Mack Sennet Keystone Cops movie. The announcement was so quick; it sounded like Mini Mouse on helium.

The plane was still climbing, but the poor things had to push the trolley up the isle, which was at an angle of about forty-five degrees. The trolley didn’t seem keen on going anywhere; it liked it where it was. When we started our descent a very short time later, the trolley demonstrated a keen reluctance to return to it’s previous position at the back of the plane. Two uniformed Irish folk were trying their hardest to appear smiling and friendly, while attempting to control the "Trolley from Hell". After we landed, the crew lined up at the door to wish us a fond farewell. The carefully coifed hair-dos of the girls were in various stages of demolition and Brendan’s shirt was hanging out. Ah! the romance of Air travel.

As I passed the Human wrecks at the door I was remided of an old Irish/Jewish saying of my Grandfather. He used to say "If a things worth doing it’s worth doing well. And it will be done best if it’s done…slowly!"