We were on an early morning flight meaning 3.30 am alarms to peel two sleeping children out of their beds and bundle them into an Uber. Ordinarily, there is nothing good about being in a twilight taxi aged 35 but this was our first trip abroad since 2017 and I was feeling jovial. Sadly, this was quelled as we arrived at Leeds Bradford Airport to see an unfathomably long, snaking queue to security. Joining us at the back, a man in a Lambretta tracksuit was livid, swearing quite a lot, and saying he was willing to pay “up to £35” to jump to the front which seemed an oddly specific limit. He then stormed off, presumably to find a Jet 2 employee to haggle with.
“What did he expect?” Louise said, shaking her head. “Has he not been watching the news?”
“I know, how ridiculous,” I replied.
I had not been watching the news and I was not expecting this.