The recent journey to and from Italy was more difficult than usual. We flew out with Air France: Newcastle-Paris; Paris-Venice and it was most stressful. I thought I knew Charles de Gaulle airport quite well, but the miles of corridors we had to negotiate to change planes didn’t look at all familiar. There was a long queue to check passports (again) and another security screen where I had to tug off my boots from feet somewhat swollen by tramping so far in a hot airport. Luckily we had an hour to change planes, but we needed it.
Coming back was a different story. This time, with the same joint company, we flew KLM Venice-Amsterdam; Amsterdam-Newcastle and it was pleasant. The Dutch staff were far better, and Schipol airport was pleasant (as airports go). Still vast, but at least we didn’t have to change terminals. In the arrivals hall we were entertained by birdsong coming from a forest glade of artificial trees. You might scoff, but it was far preferable to pop music blaring forth.
My pleading letter to Jet2 to bring back the direct flights between Newcastle and Paris has disappeared into a black hole.