Samuel Fishwick
(Picture: Daniel Hambury/@stellapicsltd)I have never found big jets to be big entertainment, especially as EasyJet flight EZY8558 from Salzburg to Gatwick dipped a wing tentatively into Storm Eunice at midday on Friday and took the plunge. My fiancée inspected the inside of a sick bag. The calm before the storm was sunshine at 32,000 feet. Couldn’t we stay up here?
Our plane began to lurch like it was stumbling out of Fabric at 4am, trying to pick a fight with a cloud. The engines screamed. So did the passengers. A lady behind me muttered, “we’re going to die”, clutching her wire headphones like a string of pearls. The cars on the M23 grew from Hot Wheels toys to giant headlights barrelling towards us. Then the engines roared, we rocketed upwards and our pilot crackled over the Tannoy: “Sorry folks, too dicey. We’ll give it another go in 25 minutes, and if the winds don’t change, I’m afraid we’re off to France.”
