Want to win a trip to Monaco?…!

I don’t typically use my blog for promotions, but as Randstad is a client of ours, and I know first hand how incredible this prize would be, I simply have to share it! Here’s the detail…





Global specialist recruiter Randstad is offering accountants, engineers, IT professionals, teachers, social workers and sales professionals a chance to attend a VIP race day experience with Williams Martini Racing in Monaco.

As the official partner of the Williams Martini Racing team, Randstad has put together a prize package for two sets of winners of the competition: a VIP race day experience with Williams Martini Racing in Monaco, including flights between London Gatwick and Nice and accommodation at the Hotel Suisse Nice for 3 nights in the Mediterranean sunshine.

The 19 turn Circuit de Monaco is just 2.075 miles long, making the street circuit the shortest in this year’s championship – and one of the most prestigious races in the Formula 1™ calendar.

The winner of the competition will lap up the fantastic atmosphere as Williams’ drivers Felipe Massa and Valtteri Bottas who came 4th in the 2014 season, ahead of Fernando Alonso, Sebastian Vettel, and Jenson Button – race around Monte Carlo in front of thousands of petrol heads.

The Circuit de Monaco is one of the most prestigious races in the season’s calendar and one of the most glamorous sporting events in the world. This is a great opportunity for accountants, engineers, IT professionals, teachers, social workers and sales professionals, to get in on the action and rub shoulders with the glitterati,” said Mark Bull, UK CEO of Randstad.

Randstad has sponsored Williams Martini Racing since 2006 because, unlike other Formula 1™ teams, Williams Martini Racing is wholly independent – they conduct almost all of their work in-house, so having the right people on board is paramount. We recognise that every member of our team has an impact on our performance, and we measure our own success on our ability to recruit the best people in the market. While it’s the drivers who are the main focus of every race, Formula 1™ remains a team sport – even during races. It’s these cultural parallels across our organisations that have helped make our partnership so enduring.

For your chance to win, enter your details on the Randstad Facebook page or click through to: https://www.randstad.co.uk/about-us/our-sponsorships/williams-martini-competition/ 

The competition runs from 7th April and closes 7th May 2015 at 11:59pm, and is only open to residents of Great Britain and Northern Ireland who are aged 18 or over at the point of registration on the website and such persons are eligible for the Prize.


– ENDS –




Tora Turton, victoria.turton@instinctif.com, 020 7427 1445



Randstad is one of the leading recruitment & HR services providers in the world with a top three position in the UK and the United States.

Randstad’s business lines serve the public and private sectors across IT; Accounting and Financial services; Marketing, Retail, Sales, Construction, Property and Engineering; Education; Social Care; Interim Management and Search; Human Resources; Student and Worker Support and In-House and Managed Services.

KL reflections

Apparently, from my posts on Facebook over the weekend, it came across as perhaps the best trip I’ve been on? To be honest, I don’t know if that’s true. I find it hard to point to any one trip and say “that was the best” as they’ve all had their own individuality and memorable moments.

This time, the individuality came from the lack of individuality! KL is perhaps one of the most mixed places I’ve been to, even compared to London. London has a lot going on, but I find that almost works against it – the constant excitement and buzz, always millions of tourists and even the climate, means that you just know you’re in London. I expect it’s probably the same in places like New York? 

AN: I haven’t actually been to New York since 2000, apart from transferring through JFK, which doesn’t really count does it? So I’m totally speculating on the ‘just knowing you’re there’ thing. Maybe it’s time I went back? Thelma & Louise trip for 2016 perhaps? I digress, sorry…

In KL, there’s loads of different areas to explore and each has its own story, a unique feel, and a vibe to it, and on my first day, I saw this in abundance.


Firstly, there’s the bit where two rivers converge, the point where KL was founded. When I get here, I walk out of the LTR station straight into a small but bustling street market, selling noting notable, just fels like your average locals’ market, a local community, nothing touristy at all. I then have my first experience of clambering over rubble and broken pavements to get down to the point where the rough guide said I’d get the best view of the convergence of the rivers. I get there in one piece, toes and ankles intact, to find a motorbike car park on one side, and a building site on the other. If I hadn’t previously read-up on it, I’d probably never have known it was of any significance? But I to me it’s quite interesting, because of what it stands for, and I find myself taking photos of a concrete park, a crane and the odd digger. Hey ho! 

From here, I walk South through a very unassuming little square with a tiny clock tower in the centre. Not hugely impressed by the tower, but the mishmash of buildings around the square makes me look and wonder (as I do!) Turns out this was the old market square and the centre of the city – I’d never have guessed, again there’s nothing notable to tell me that, just different eras evident in the decaying architecture around me. 

I carry on over the bridge towards the Colonial core. Now this is more obvious. With Moorish looking buildings on one side, a mock Tudor building housing an exclusive Gentlemen’s club on the other, with fountains and a flag pole at one end, and arches and pillars at the other, all surrounding a huge square plot of well-kept grass, complete with cricket crease in the centre! This place has so much significance, you can tell, even if you didn’t know the history. In the midst of all this is a giant red model of the initials I❤️KL, and markings on the ground for people to queue up to take their picture with it… yes, not proud, of course I did!

In the centre of the fountain stands a use flagpole, where the Malaysian flag was raised at 12:01 on their first day of independence – less than 60 years ago. Suddenly, a city full of such old buildings and history feels so young – it’s like it’s full of people who’ve been there for ever, but who suddenly have a new lease of life? And they’re grabbing it with both hands and rebuilding their city into a magical place, whilst neither losing nor over-exaggerating its past. It makes me feel lucky, humble, and excited all at the same time. I also feel very hot (relentless sun, no shade, first day in 30+ degrees, when the forecast suggested it’d rain all weekend…) so I have a moment, take my snaps, and make my way back over the river.

At this point, I’m looking for shade and fancy a drink, but don’t want to head back up to the hotel just yet. Out comes the guide book and #2 on my list (yes, of course I have a list) is Chinatown. Except they don’t call it that. It’s just an area influenced by Chinese culture, a bunch of street markets with an oriental vibe. Now the guide book says to head for Petaling Street, and shows me a photo vaguely resembling Gerrard St in London. Looks a bit touristy, so I decide to get to it via the back streets and alleys. And here I discover a very different kind of market. Not for the faint hearted, vegetarian, vegan, or anyone with any other moral foodie preference; this is like dark, smelly alleyways, clambering over milk crates and avoiding puddles, with stalls either side propped up by steps and tarpaulins, mostly selling food (although the only indication of what’s on sale is the live version clucking around in the crate under the table), with limited interest in hygiene (although I do see a chap washing a wicker basket under a drainpipe). I generally have the constitution of an ox and not much makes me queasy, but I’ll admit, I may think twice about what meat I ate after seeing this!

As I come back out into the daylight I find myself by Petaling Street, where the markets suddenly become a outlets for football shirts, baseball caps, fake watches and touts. Not my kinda thing, so I scurry through with my head down, and round the next corner. Luckily, I’ve already plotted an idea of where I’m going, and manage to find my way to the Little China Café. Goldmine! For a mere 15 ringgit (£2:75) I get a delicious freshly squeezed lemon iced tea, served with liquid sugar?! (New fave, the tea not the sugar, if anyone knows where to get this in London let me know!) and fresh spring rolls (perhaps the freshest, lightest and tastiest I’ve ever eaten, they were just delicious!) In fact, there’s heaps on the menu I want to try, but I’m not that hungry yet. So I decide to come back over the weekend and make sure I’m starving!

After lunch, I decide to head back North and see a bit more of the city, literally. Now anyone who knows anything about KL knows of the Petronas twin towers. They’re the tallest skyscrapers in the city, but you can only go up so far, as the top section isn’t open to tourists. However, the KL tower just across the road is built on higher ground, so although it’s not as big, it actually reaches higher above sea level and is therefore the highest point in the city. And there’s a 360degree platform at the top which you can go out onto. At you can see the Petronas twin towers from there. So that’s where I head.

When I walk in, it’s all very efficient. A lady welcomes me, asks my nationality, and escorts me to the appropriate desk. The chap there asks whether I’m going to the inside view room ¾ of the way up, or the outside observation deck at the top? I think back to a mate in Australia telling me that, if I was going to do a skydive, don’t go for the cheaper 11,000ft jump, do it properly and pay more for the 14,000ft. So I pay my 99 ringgits and am escorted to the next desk, where I’m presented with a piece of paper and asked to sign a contract… Erm, what? Apparently, the small print basically says I promise not to run, jump or push anyone over the edge! Well that’s ok then! Let’s go!

The view from the top is incredible. KL is so much bigger than I realised? Most of the bits in the guide book are walkable, and the light rail train and monorail get you pretty much anywhere quite quickly. So on the ground it feels quite small. But it feels like you can see the whole country from up here! And the skyscrapers aren’t just in the centre, they’re dotted all over the city, which makes it feel even bigger. And there’s random hills popping up everywhere too, not like Yorkshire hills or Everest, but hills big enough to throw up a spot of green in between buildings. I take my photos, as you do, and after just a few minutes, wonder how long I’m meant to stay up here to consider it value for money? To be fair, 99 ringgits is only about £20, so it’s not crazy silly. I breathe in the view, make sure I get another picture and head back to the elevator.

Once back on the ground, I realise that, in between here and my hotel and is KLCC – the new city centre. So I follow my feet and aim in the general direction of the twin towers. Now, this is a bit like coming to London and seeing Big Ben. It’s probably one of the best known images of the city, and you can see it from miles away. But when you get up close, it’s something different. 

From an early age, I’ve liked interesting architecture – not so much the older stuff, but weird and impressive new buildings. And my favourite for many years has been Richard Rogers’ ‘powerhouse’ – home to Lloyds of London. Well sorry Rich, but the top spot has now been taken over. I LOVE this place! I could honestly stand and look at the twin towers for hours. The fact that it’s sunny does help, and I’ve been told that they look even better at night. 

Beyond the towers, is a huge park, with impressive buildings all round it. Like a cross between Central Park and Canada Square, but with heaps of sun, no traffic, and lots of fountains and cafes, it’s just lovely, and another distinct change from the Colonial core, Chinatown and Bhukit Bintang. 

Talking of which, it’s time I headed back, so I walk from KLCC back to Bhukit Bintang, where I’m staying. This area is surrounded by impressive  shopping malls, and Gucci, Hugo Boss and Prada adorn the view from my hotel lobby. It’s bright lights, glamour and credit cards all round, but feels clean, safe and not in the slightest bit pretentious.

Just a few streets away, is the nightlife of Chankit Bhukit Bintang, where I’m heading this evening. One long strip of more uneven pavements, raised kerbs, stationary traffic, convenience stores and Thai spas, this is one of the busiest streets I’ve seen so far, and clearly where the tourists come. As night falls, the streets fill with hawker style eateries and loud bars – there’s the token Irish and, with F1 in town, a few bars are sponsored by race teams like Red Bull and Kingfisher. Luckily, I’m in flats tonight and opted to dress down, so the terrain, touts and tourists are easily navigated. I make my way to the top of the street, before stopping to decide which establishment to go back to. Across the road is a quieter but much more ‘me’ type venue called Havana, perfect. So I grab a table, order a cold one, pull out my book and read up on very thing I’ve seen.

In one day I’ve experienced the Moorish old town, the Colonial core, street market heaven/hell in Chinatown, incredible food, the immaculate KLCC, the view from KL tower, the shopping mecca of Bhukit Bintang and the frenetic nightlife of Chankat. I’ve only touched the surface of each so still lots to explore, but already I love KL… This place is amazing…


Was that really a week ago? I guess having landed home on Tuesday morning and gone straight back to work, I haven’t really stopped and reflected until now, so it feels like I was only there yesterday. But I’d go back tomorrow. The people were friendly, not pushy at all, and didn’t seem to see tourists as a money pot. They were welcoming and simply seemed pleased that people want to come and see their beautiful country.  I didn’t get offered a selfie stick once, not anywhere, quite the contrast from Rome last month. And when I go back – I will go back – my new Malaysian friends have told me to go to Penang and Cameron Highland too. I will, for sure. Just need to save up again first!



Just go, they’ll work around you

On my first day here, I walked from KLCC to Bukit Bintang using the roads and pavements. And I mean literally, roads and pavements, because it seems they don’t differentiate between who can use what?

The cars are generally pretty good at going where they’re told, but if a building site pops then appears in the middle of a busy shopping area, they just push the traffic over to the left a bit, onto the pavement (it’s ok, most of the slaps are missing or wobbly anyway).

But the motorbikes are not catered for at all. Why would they be? They just go wherever they like anyway! Roads (with or against the general flow of traffic), pavements (but don’t worry, just keep walking and they’ll find their way around you), stairs (I kid you not, it’s like Kick Start in some places!) Up the steps, across the grass, down the rubble bank, over a couple of old tyres and back onto the road the other side, slipping into the traffic (going at 90 degrees to the cars to get across to where they want to be)

For pedestrians, they might build you a walkway (which could take you round three shopping malls and a subway, bringing you out two blocks from where you thought you’d be). 

But it all just seems to work. It’s like the epitome of a non-bureaucratic traffic system – there’s structure, of sorts, in places, but they just go where there’s space. 

Zebra crossings are merely decoration

Seriously, they have absolutely no purpose whatsoever! I discovered this after spending ten minutes strategically positioned in a Hagen Daas shop surveying how it all works (tactical move of course, nothing to do with mango sorbet).

Eventually, on realising my two scoops have gone, I make my move. I start logically at the crossing. There’s a huge round button (with no signage or instructions) so I press it. Nite, I didn’t spot anyone else trying this whilst consuming my choc n mint, but few people in London do either, they just wait for the lights to change) but I’m taking no chances. I give it a couple of minutes, then the red man opposite goes green and I hear what sounds like a peacock stuck in the lamppost beside me, so I start to cross. But the cars and bikes don’t stop for the light, or for me? Erm, ok!

By Saturday night, after a day exploring the city, I think I’ve got it covered. As I emerge from the hotel, I’m surrounded by a myriad of shoppers, tourists and locals, all waiting patiently for the lights to change. To my right a see a local-looking chap make a run for it and descend into the traffic. Right, I’m up for this… let’s just take it a lane at a time… I start slowly (so the cars know I’m going for it) and start to walk out as I see a gap behind the oncoming car. As the red/white taxi goes past (and I chuckle at the ‘no haggling’ sign on his door) I step up a gear and quicken my pace to the relative safety (?) of the white line between lanes… I slow a little until the bikes have played cat & mouse with me, before subtly (trying desperately to look like I do this every day) making a final dash towards Prada.

So general rule of thumb: just go where you like and they work around you – fun fun!


Birthday bubbles with friends old and new

Friday night. And after a long day’s exploring, trying to cram in everything I wanted to see, I decide it’s time I arranged something to do later. Thanking the hotel for complimentary wifi, I contact the pitlane to see who’s out and about tonight; an iMessage to Organised Esq (who’s already sent me his number in KL) an email to the Snowman (as I’ve no number for him) and a FB message to Mr Useless (notoriously rubbish and unlikely to even look at his phone before Tuesday, except to share the latest HuffPost on Facebook).

Organised comes up trumps – general plan is to aim for food in KLCC about 8. I suggest Marini’s? Yep, should be able to find that. Desperado’s out too, so we’ll see you then. Cool.

Next-up, I WhatsApp Tina to see what he and Alej are up to. They live out here and his brother is a mate of mine in London. I haven’t seen him since a very drunken hockey night out at the Olympics, and I’ve yet to meet his fiancé, Alejandra. So v much looking forward to that, although slightly unsure whether calling him ‘Tina’ may be a tad dangerous in SEAsia?!

Unfortunately for the pitlane boys, who are staying out of the city closer to the track, no taxis are prepared to come into town! Organised and Desperado are at different hotels but both having the same issue. They call to see if I can go further out? Being me, and always up for exploring and adventure, I give it a go. But because I’ve arranged to meet Tina and Alej at 11, I’ll need to get a cab back no later than 10:30… By this point it’s close to 9 and if I don’t find a cab in the next 15, it’s hardly gonna be worth it! Unfortunately for the pitlane, the city taxis are as cooperative as Nico was with Lewis, and no-one wants to go anywhere! I make a decision – it’s now 9:30, do I really fancy spending my birthday Saturday night in KL in a taxi? I head over to Marini’s and up to #57.

…where there appears to be a party going on! I know no-one in the building and have no idea what to expect, but I jump in the lift with 5 Aussie blokes and up we go. One of the Aussies (who bears a vague resemblance to Russell Crowe, but slightly less rugged and with curlier hair), turns round and asks “you’re going up to the party too?” To which I respond “certainly looks that way!” I have no idea where this sudden burst of cockiness comes from?! And given my utter lack of insight into where the lift is taking us or even who’s party it is, I can only assume it’s a defence mechanism for the fact that I’m actually on my tod and just want a glass of bubbles in the best bar in the city! Luckily Russell doesn’t take offence and, in fact, buys me a glass of said bubbles for my birthday :) 

Meanwhile, we reach #57 and as the doors open, the music gets louder, the lights get darker and the party presents itself. To be honest, I’ve still no idea who’s party it is, but Mr Petronas suggested that Mercedes had a party here last year (it is right beside their sponsor’s HQ so I wouldn’t be surprised, although I saw no-one looking remotely F1ish in the place). 

Having looked at the view and said “wow” more times than I probably should (there goes that illusion of looking like a regular), meeting a bunch of really friendly Malaysians, accepting a glass of birthday bubbles from Russell Crowe chappie (who turns out to be called Anthony) and chatting with his mates (who turn out to be called Antonio, Tony and Brian) and deciding it’ll be simpler to just call everyone Tony (except for Brian – not at all confusing), I finally hop in a cab and head down to the Havana bar to meet Tina and Alej.

On arrival, it appears half the Aussies who left before me, had a similar idea. We reconvene and play continues. By this point, we’re on our fifth bottle of bubbles and I’m wondering where Tina’s got to… Just as I pull out my phone, I hear a familiar voice behind me saying “don’t text, we’re here!” Lots of squeals, big hugs and more bubbles – awesome :)



Smells like Saha

First thoughts of KL

The smell. Some places have their own smells, don’t they? And I’m not talking about your local kebab shop or curry house. My best mate once pointed out to me that driving through London at night smelt really distinctive, and she was right, and I now recognise it. 

When I landed at the airport, all I smelt was duty free, and on the KLIA Ekspres all I smelt was damp public transport (welcome to hot wet SE Asia!) But when I got off at KL Sentral to find the monorail, I got a hit of individuality. It’s not unpleasant, not overpowering, not a spoil, just defining. It’s like humidity and street food with a dabble of incense thrown in for good measure. It’s great! And having packed and been out to explore on my first night here, it’s actually a good representation of the mixture of culture I’ve seen in the past three hours. 

I like it. I shall name it Saha. 

AN: I’ve no idea what that means, so if it’s anything naughty, I apologise?! It’s actually the name of the chap who’s just served me my drink!


The joys of alternative signage

You don’t realise how accustomed you’ve become to your surroundings, until you go somewhere else, right? I mean things like signs and directions. At home, you know what to look for; the fonts, colours, positioning etc. you just know where to look for motorway signs, or street names, or underground maps don’t you?

So am I starting to get ambivalent now? Either that or the signage here is clear and I’m getting too clever for my own good! Let me explain.

I arrive in KL having never been here before, and manage to walk (confidently, as in, what Staffs would call ‘the strut’) straight through the airport to the shuttle train without so much as glancing at a sign (well of course I looked, I just did it subtly, without getting out my guidebook, or asking at the information desk, which I managed to clock en route, just in case…) I then fail terribly, and in full view of a family of three. 

Having considered the need for coins for the monorail in town, found an ATM, got out some Rans, found a shop and bought water (tick, mum!) to get change, found the KLIA Ekspres ticket machine, purchased my ticket into town, and spotted the (brightly coloured in purple) lift down to the platform; I was feeling suitably smug at how unlike a novice I must have looked! But schoolgirl error to follow… 

I clock that the Ekspres platform is on level 1, and whilst everyone else waits by the purple lift, I slip across to the empty one across the hall and press button #1 ;) I’m soon joined by mum, dad and their daughter, Gap Yar, who claims she knows where she’s going… In silence, we all descend to L1, only to emerge into a car park? Hang on, this isn’t right? I think back to how there’s a fifty-lane road separating L1 departures from L1 car hire at San Jose airport… Ok so back up, back across the hall, and back down in the purple lift (where everyone else who’s clearly NOT a novice was waiting ten minutes ago), and follow the signs.


Fortunately for me, the people waiting there ten minutes earlier are already safely on their way and not around to see my faux pas. In fact, the only people who are still around are mum, dad and Gap Yar who’ve made exactly the same mistake as me! We nod in acknowledgement, exchange libel about the ‘poor signage’ and enough is said… 

Now where’s that Ekspres?


In flight entertainment

Last time I blogged about in-flight entertainment, I was referring to the AV system. But I’m back to my old tricks and this time I’m inspired by my fellow passengers.

Not long after sitting down, I’m in conversation with the chap beside me – Jazz. He’s in Marketing, lives in Twickenham, spent two years in India and a year in New York, has travelled extensively with his work, rocking up over 300,000 air miles, and is addicted to Alaskan survival documentaries. Surprising what you learn about someone in a few minutes’ in a confined space! But whilst the conversation is interesting, my attention is soon distracted by the passengers in the row in front of us. 

So Walter is by the aisle. From behind, I can’t see what he looks like, but I envisage a resemblance to the chap next door from the Good Life (not Richard Briers, the other one, the tall one). Walter is greying, going a bit thin on top, but still making an effort with his appearance (he’s wearing Prada specs). Beside him is Gloria; also greying a little, and somewhat shorter than Walter, but I suspect she also tries to make an effort, as her thinning hair shows multiple shades of red and blonde, suggesting to me that she has (or used to) dye it to cover the grey. 

AN: I’m not consciously trying to judge poor Wallie and Glors based on the state of their hair – it’s just that, from the seat behind them, I have little more on which to base my assessment!

Anyway, They don’t seem to chat much (well, not compared to Jazz and I anyway, we haven’t shut up since we took off?!) Perhaps they’re tired (we did have a slight delay on take off)? Or perhaps they’re reading or something? But I soon draw a new conclusion – it’s actually in Wallie’s best interests to say nothing. I come to this conclusion having just witnessed our first food service of the flight.

I’m not actually sure if Glors is vegetarian, has a nut allergy, or is simply accustomed to complaining? But it begins when the choice offered on today’s menu turns out not to be a choice any longer – they’ve run out of beef (we are on the back row of our cabin, so I’m not entirely surprised; like Glors herself, maybe everyone in front of her fancied the beef (I know I did), but clearly Glors isn’t happy with this. She doesn’t want the chicken. In fact, it sounds like she actually pre-ordered caviar, but for some reason, in this seat (we’re in Premium Economy) that particular blend is not readily available. 

Wallie keeps quiet.

When our polite crew member (Elaine) suggests she could try the veggie option (pasta) instead of the chicken, Glors argues her case. That’s not what she wanted (the fact that there is nothing else available, is irrelevant). Diplomatically, and I suspect to show how important they consider Glors’ satisfaction to be, Elaine suggests she speaks to her cabin supervisor to see what could be done… She disappears.

Wallie says nothing.

A few minutes later, as I’m tucking into my chicken, Elaine returns with her cabin supervisor, Shane. Shane begins by showing he has been brought up to speed by Elaine, and relays back to Glors what he understands the issue to be. But Glors is getting hungry. She’s been on this plane for nearly 90 minutes now, and still she’s had nothing to eat.

AN: I actually saw her eat the pretzels they brought round a while ago but, like Wallie, I’m saying nothing, this is far too entertaining…

Before Shane can get a word in edgeways, Glors is guiding his vocabulary with comments like ‘is there no sorry in there?’ for which Shane naturally apologies, as Wallie gently slides an inch down in his seat.

By this point, Glors’ argument is still not entirely clear to me – she’s taking up time in making them run around after her, without actually helping them find her a suitable solution? Instead of accepting that the Beluga she was expecting had not actually been loaded at Heathrow, and as we are now 29,000 feet up somewhere over Scandinavia, it’s unlikely to appear anytime soon; instead of telling the cabin crew (who are trying to help her) that she is hungry, that they should apologise, and that she is not happy; if she gave them a second to propose an alternative, the situation could potentially be resolved?

A third crew member soon approaches, and Jane has a far more businesslike look on her face. Wallie slides an inch lower, and says nothing.

Jane clearly has no need to demonstrate authority, understanding, or anything else. From the look on her face, you know she knows her stuff, and will be able to diffuse the situation, even if it means Glors going down the emergency exit slide.

Jane apologises (tick) for Madam’s hunger (tick) and for the misunderstanding which has caused this. She has now come downstairs from First Class, and has brought their menu with her. If there’s anything on there which Madam might like, they can arrange that. Clearly, as food in First is cooked to order, she may have to wait a few minutes – Glors opens her mouth to complain (I’m guessing that waiting is unacceptable?) – but Sally gets there first, saying that beyond that, there are no other options as we are now 39,000 feet up and not landing any time soon.

Glors is finally in her place. She orders the fish. Wallie gives her hand a little squeeze of approval – god help him if he actually spoke – and Jane disappears, job done.

I am stifling a grin, typing away, suitably entertained. Jazz clocks me writing and hands me his business card, saying “please can I read it when it’s published?”