"The plane is pressurised for your convenience"

The flight there..

The handy screen in front of me tells me that the Airbus I'm in is travelling at a height of 33 thousand feet at around 600 miles per hour and there are 2626 miles between me and New York. I'm writing this in the air to post later.. Don't worry, I'm not trying to screw up all the navigational equipment.

What the screen does NOT me is that Colin Farrell is sharing the same Aer Lingus flight. Which should make me ver nervous indeed, knowing how adept he is at killing fellow passengers with a well aimed peanut.

We had a very early start this morning with the first leg of our journey (Birmingham to Dublin) at stupidly-early-o-clock. The rigmarole is having to go through American customs took up most of the time we spent there (resisting the urge to hint that Tom was carrying explosives) and then it was onto the mighty airbus we're all sitting in now, some (checks screen) 5 hours and 36 minutes away from JFK airport. A complimentary bag of salted pretzels to acclimatise ourselves to Americana, and lunch will shortly be served.

I wish that, despite the fact it was around seven o'clock in the morning, I'd had a beer at Birmingham Airport now. I hear that there is officially no shame in doing so, because Airport bars exist strictly outside the space time continuum.. A kind of Limbo, if you will.

... And now it's several hours on and we're about an hour and twenty minutes from New York.. A mere 485 miles away and 39 thousand feet below us. We've had lunch (a choice of beef bolegnese and pasta or some kind of chicken stew.. i plumped for the beef) and I'm currently entertaining myself by chewing on a nicorette. Just Maine and Boston to fly over and the British Invasion begins...!

But by golly do I need a cigarette. And a beer.