Craic On

When I first started travelling to Sofia I used to fly Air Bulgaria from Gatwick. Once, having answered the call for those needing assistance to come forward now, I stepped forward and did not get quite the help I expected. What I got was a good telling off because the Air Bulgaria official thought “You are a liar. There is nothing wrong with you. Sit down immediately”. Passengers were boarded. The gate was closed and the official departed. I was abandoned, so I made the walk of shame to find the plane alone, being rescued by a man in ear muffs who, spotting the cane, got the general idea that all was not well on the old eyesight front. Many years ago I realised that, if I was to live into old age, the white cane, was essential in airports. It came about because a tried and tested technique of shoulder serving a likely looking passenger failed me. I found myself running from the terminal to the plane, in heavy rain late at night at Belfast airport. I was effectively running freestyle towards the runway. A