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I have always assumed that travelling with children is just like travelling, but with children. It isn't.

Even with a perfectly behaved child, which Verity (mostly) was, it is a very stressful experience. There is no point packing a book in your hand luggage, it will only add extra weight which given all the child paraphernalia required, is not entirely welcome.

Not that it wasn't enjoyable, just different.

There is barely a single moment when you can think of anything except the child, its welfare, and whether it is about to run towards a security point shouting "death to infidels."

The child, of course, doesn't notice this. The child doesn't even realise that there might be something terrifying about hurtling down a runway, strapped into a metal tube full of explosive fuel in the vague hope that it might start flying.

And so, I would like to apologise to my parents for all the years of foreign holidays when I was too young to be grateful for the stress they went through; and for the years when I was old enough to be grateful but wasn't.