I never can fathom the vagaries of airline security. Take your laptop out of your bag here; leave it encased there. Remove your shoes; pad barefoot through the grime. The only consistency is that they seem to think that humans have at least four hands, to hold all of the items which we’ve had to unpack or from which we’ve disrobed by the time we brave the scanners.

Our local airport seems particularly prone to making it up as they go along. As I headed out towards the States at the weekend, the young lady looked me up and down, and smiled ever-so-sweetly. Politely, she made her request: “Please remove your belt, sir.”

I suddenly realised that I’d found many a girl’s ideal job: eyeing up the toppish looking men, and getting that certain frisson as she watched them whip out their their belts.

I folded mine neatly, doubling it over carefully before placing it on top of the tray before her. I smiled. She smiled back. I wondered…