Took the death plane from Heathrow, a numbing multi-stop ride; first Schipol then Sofia, which only a few of us survived, before we landed in Cairo at two o’clock in the morning. At each stop, EgyptAir 778 bumped the tarmac and the empty seats flopped forward, their backs pointing to the ceiling, crash position. Is ‘Heads between knees. Hands behind heads’ really the best way to make it through?
It was December and cold when I left, but when we reached the final destination it was hot and humid and my first thought was, Oh my God! after the jabs for yellow fever and tetanus, the pills for malaria and the cholera tablets, I had forgotten hepatitis!
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