A Manchester dispatch .. airports, planes, and fish & chips ..

The Airbus A380 is a large plane, granted, rendering passengers unrivalled standards of in-flight comfort, from first class to economy. This trip, as is the norm, happened to be in cattle class. And row 85 is a long, long way back. Not a position to allow a rapid exit, but certainly a place to watch, and wonder.

Flight QF8019 landed at Manchester Airport yesterday evening, on time, and in good spirits, for the main. What happened next was so quintessentially British, or in terms of Manchester speak, so Manc!

For the record, I am a Mancunian, more by birth than by residence these days. However, Manchester still holds a special place in my heart, and most probably, always will.

Manchester

It would be a difficult question, but if asked to encapsulate what Manchester has provided to the world, my considered answer would most likely be Football and Music. The basis of my opinion would be formed before a career in cricket took hold.

No doubt this represents a narrow view. In my defence I would say most boys with a modicum of athletic ability dreamed of playing for either Manchester City or Manchester United. If this seemed a bridge too far, then emulating the Gallaghers would have to do. Either way, most of my friends followed these principles.

The industrial revolution is certainly deserving of recognition, and remains a significant part of Manchester's past. Also, Alan Turing ranks high on the list of successful Mancunians - his codebreaking endeavours in World War II being legendary.

It’s just hard see past Manchester City and Oasis!

I should include this as I am in the game, or at least have my toes in the water. Manchester is a city with brains. Did I say that? My dear mother always wished for me to attend university, preferably Manchester University. The university is home to no fewer than 25 Nobel Prize laureates. Cricket might have been the best option!

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OK, back to row 85 ... that's on the plane, that landed in Manchester, yesterday evening.

Why do people get up as soon as a plane stops moving? Is it a desire, or a need, to extricate oneself from the intimate confines of international plane travel? I'm not sure, Maybe it's ignorance, It seems only those in the window seats know the drill. Saying that, they have little or no chance of moving, instead they remain shoe-horned into seats once coveted as a desirable option.

My preference is an aisle seat. I also understand the dynamics of being positioned at the arse-end of the plane, you can stand, but you're not going anywhere soon. Simple really. Is there a silver lining, most certainly, you can find yourself in the perfect vantage point to observe and listen to stereotypical British tourists.

On this occasion it was a mother of four young children, and a couple of likely Manchester lads, it seemed, all returning from a winter break in Dubai. I'm certain the two groups were independent of each other. For the sake of the dispatch we will fictitiously cast the mother as Jenny, and the likely lads will be just that. Manchester likely lads.

Jenny had done an amazing job with her crew, the youngest being a boy of no more than two. He made Harry Houdini look inept when it came to the art of escape. And, like all boys of that age, he sought the company of others, over the caring hand of his mother. Not me, but you probably guessed it, the likely lads.

The other three siblings, all girls, conducted themselves with more measure than the rest of the cabin combined. And, they didn't stand when the plane stopped moving. Bravo Jenny.

And the two likely lads. I would suggest they rest their heads in Manchester's inner North. It's likely they undermine their respective bosses, and are vilified by work colleagues for doing so. Their alcohol consumption would be confined to any day ending with Y - or until the fortnightly pay-check runs dry. One was a gym junkie, the other looked like Stan Laurel. And, of course, both wore a Peaky Blinders hair cut.

I'm told a compelling story is all about the set up. Slow and steady. The punch line should not be rushed, no matter how ridiculous or strong it may be.

It had been a cordial conversation between Jenny and the lads, never risky, but focused mainly on the young escape artist. They fostered him intermittently, while Jenny watched the Elvis movie - my seat allowed a perfect second screen view. Voyeurism on a plane seems unavoidable - I felt no remorse.

So to the punch line ... fingers crossed.

The plane had stopped, most passengers were out of their seats. Our two protagonists had cordially reacquainted, with both teams thanking each other for their respective contributions. And then Jenny asks, "What time do you have?" Their reply was, "It's not 7pm yet." Jenny delivers the line of the night, "Great, the chippy might still be open." The chippy - the fish & chip shop - the cornerstone of Northern English cuisine. Forget the culinary excellence of Dubai, we're talking fish & chips!

I hope Jenny made it before closing, then I don't, her children will thank her in the long run.

The likely lads - they were unanimous in championing Jenny's patriotism to the English fish and chip, to the point of condemning what they had eaten for the previous week in Dubai. Their evening eating destination was to be Nando's - no doubt they were Manchester United fans, and infatuated with Cristiano Ronaldo, and Portuguese chicken.

As always, thank you for being here.