DECADES ago when flying was a novelty I loved airports and international travel.

The adventure started when you packed your suitcase the day before. The trip to the airport was full of anticipation, checking in was an ego boost – “I’m going somewhere foreign, me. I’m a jet-setter.” And stepping into the departure lounge was like being abroad already.

Airline staff were more courteous years ago before package trips and Ryanair became the dominant force of air travel.

In the intervening years the glamour has rubbed off and airports are now nothing more than glorified bus stations. Unless you can afford to fly business or first class ... and I can’t.

The adventure has gone and most people these days look upon the journey as an endurance test – the longer the flight, the greater the test. Sitting several hours in a middle seat with no leg room and limited opportunity to recline can turn even someone as small as me into Quasimodo.

Happy were the days when Pan Am flights were half full and you could pick a row to stretch out across.

“I’ll have these four seats here. Wake me up when we arrive.”

Or the occasion on a PIA flight when the only people in the rear section of the Boeing were me and a six piece rock and roll band. That was comfort. That was service.

So this week I was feeling particularly sympathetic to my sister-in-law and brother-in-law, Virginia and Ian, who were flying into Manchester from Seattle with their American friend Kim. There are no direct flights so they came via Iceland.

They left home at 11am, which was 7pm here, a time when I settled down in front of the TV.

I got up at 8am by which time they had landed at Keflavik International Airport, Reykjavik, and were changing planes for the second leg of their journey.

They touched down in Manchester at 10.30am, picked up a hire car and arrived at our house at 12.30pm – which back home in the States was 4.30am.

They were totally discombobulated by jetlag having gone 16.5 hours without sleep and with body clocks that were telling them it was the early hours of the morning and why weren’t they in bed?

See what I mean about an endurance test?

Which is why, in future, I intend to go no further than Filey for my holidays.