The sheer hell of going on holiday by plane

Are you going on a lovely holiday this summer? No, me neither. I love the thought of sunshine and blue seas and pistachio ice cream — it’s just the getting there I can’t stand.

especially from late June to September, which is peak bleak in terms of modern commercial air travel.

Instead, I like to stay at home, as London empties and a kind of dappled calm descends upon the capital. You can get from King’s Cross to Kensington in less than an hour, which is a kind of miracle.

You can eat an ice cream sundae in a booth at the Colony Grill without booking months in advance.

The roads are clear of school-run demented mums, mowing down pedestrians in the rush to make their 9.30am hot yoga class. And there are fewer children everywhere, always a bonus.

However. Next week, I have to go to America for work. It ought to spark a flare of excitement in my heart. Instead, I’m just thinking Heathrow in July, ugh. Queues, heat, cancellations, ugh, ugh, ugh. Fractious toddlers with full nappies, squidging along on their Trunkies. Couples bickering. Mandatory corporate passive aggression at the check-in desk. Depressing security clearance. Overcrowding. Delays.

Then hours of inhaling fetid, recycled air, squashed knees folded like a cricket’s, trying to eat a cube of rockhard melon delivered by a scowling, underpaid, over-worked steward as the couple behind finish their dutyfree vodka and start snogging.

Air travel is bad enough at the best of times, but in summer it becomes torture. Profit- hungry airlines haven’t helped by cramming us into increasingly smaller rows and meaner seats. There is less personal space. everyone is in each other’s face. Cramp sets in. Tempers sizzle.

RECENTLY, a 68-year- old man on a flight from Majorca to exeter had a meltdown because there were no bacon rolls left for his granddaughter. In an eruption of air rage he demanded to see the captain — perhaps he had some rashers hidden under his epaulettes? — shouted at the cabin crew and was fined £230 by exeter magistrates for his trouble.

Not much of an example to set to his granddaughter, but the stress of travel does funny things to people.

And if I am being honest, it is the passengers I fear more than airport crowding or flight delays. You can insure yourself against travel accidents, thefts or misfortune, but there is no policy that will cover you against the horror of other people.

Like the thoughtless brute in front who reclines his seat immediately after take-off. The arm-rest hogger. The fruity sneezer and the rasping cougher who don’t use handkerchiefs, plus the dread of assorted personal hygiene issues in an enclosed space.

Did I mention idiots who try to cram fridge- sized cases into the overhead lockers? Or my irrational loathing of passengers in front rows who stretch their legs up the bulkhead space. Stop it! I’m beginning to frighten myself.

A man recently had to be removed from a flight in Poland for extreme flatulence. (Do you know, I think I have travelled with him before.)

And on a United Airlines flight, a woman removed her shoes and put her feet on the tray table while the man sitting next to her was trying to eat his meal.

In America, there is an increasing trend for passengers to bring ‘emotional support’ animals on board with them. recent examples have included a pig and a peacock, although the former was ejected for being ‘disruptive’. What a farce.

The Civil Aviation Authority reported 418 cases of seriously disruptive passengers on UK flights in 2016, double the number logged a year earlier. Offences included fighting, being a nuisance, abusing cabin staff and smoking in toilets.

Some passengers tried to gain entry to the flight deck, while others attempted to open the aircraft’s door mid-flight. Seven in ten incidents were believed to involve alcohol.

And if the selfishness of other passengers doesn’t get you down, the cynicism of the airlines will.

Concepts such as customer comfort and brand loyalty — once highly prized — no longer seem to matter. Passengers, especially those in economy, are treated like cattle. And if something goes wrong? Tough.

THIS week, ryanair cancelled 600 flights as cabin crew went on strike, leaving around 50,000 passengers in the lurch — all from an airline that penalises customers for not printing their boarding cards properly. And which once charged a surgeon £160 for taking an early flight home after he heard his entire family had been killed in a house fire.

Meanwhile, there are threats of a strike at Manchester airport, and dozens of British Airways passengers had to spend the night sleeping on the floor at Heathrow this week.

Thousands more were left stranded as technicians cleared the backlog after an IT glitch forced flight cancellations.

Summer flights are the nightmare that never ends — but somehow we have all got to put away our tray tables, put our seats into the upright position and grit our teeth until the light breeze of civility blows back again in September.

In the meantime, I’m going in. Wish me luck.