Took the death plane from Heathrow, last row, smokers section, a numbing multi-stop ride; first Schiphol, 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?

London was smothered in a misty rain when we took off, the first sign of autumn, but when we reached our final destination, it was hot, 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!