On Saturday 29 January 2000, I took a one way Alitalia flight to Rome. I bought it from a travel agent, because we used to buy plane tickets in a shop. It cost £125. I vividly remember the giddy excitement of heading into the unknown, a frisson entirely inseparable from terror; the mellifluous rhythm of the air hostess’s “arrivederci” as I got off the plane; the bewildering battery of exotically unfamiliar typefaces as I tried to find my train.
February's monthly newsletter
February's monthly newsletter
February's monthly newsletter
On Saturday 29 January 2000, I took a one way Alitalia flight to Rome. I bought it from a travel agent, because we used to buy plane tickets in a shop. It cost £125. I vividly remember the giddy excitement of heading into the unknown, a frisson entirely inseparable from terror; the mellifluous rhythm of the air hostess’s “arrivederci” as I got off the plane; the bewildering battery of exotically unfamiliar typefaces as I tried to find my train.