I’m writing this week’s column at 38000 feet, travelling at 550 miles per hour, heading to Los Angeles in California, America’s second biggest city.
We even have an internet connection on board.

How times have changed.

Sitting besides me is my room-mate, Phil Meeks, from Derby, who has organised the itinerary for my entire stay, in military fashion, I might add.
There is going to be very little time for relaxation on this trip.

Yes, it’s a work related trip, with an element of tension built in.
Far from glamorous, but someone has to do it.

Phil’s East Midlands accent and my South Wales accent appear to be an endless source of amusement to neighbouring passengers on the flight.

As many loyal readers and followers already know, people watching is something that I really enjoy and can be considered one of my favourite past-times; I consider myself to be quite good at it.

I’ve never been good at many things.
When I was a schoolboy, I swam for Ireland three times.
Unfortunately, I never got further than the end of the North Pier in Blackpool.

But, on this plane trip, the tables have turned and more than a few of the international passengers are discretely watching and eaves-dropping our conversations – probably not understanding a word and trying to figure out our accents.

I’m reminded that travel broadens the mind.
But, in my case, also the waistline.

Best wishes from this side of the ‘Pond’.
If I see Donald, I’ll give him everyone’s regards . . .