When I was sixteen, I was on a flight home from France when the pilot (hilariously introduced as Captain Pugh and the Crew!), came on the intercom and announced in his crisp authoritative tones that there was a little rough air over the Massif Central, and that this might make the trip a little bit bumpy, but nothing for us to worry about.
An understatement if there ever was one.
The hour that followed gave us all an insight what it was like attempting to nurse a damaged Lancaster over the German skies through flak. How the wings stayed on, no-one will ever know, and I don't know what was more unlikely; that the plane reached it's destination at all, or that any of us dare step onto a plane again.
(Actually, I found it exhilarating, but then, I do).
I only mention this as I have just heard on the news that the government are warning us that "the recession will last into 2009".
Hmmm; that's us all walking around in barrels until 2020 then.
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