Jeremy Clarke Jeremy Clarke

Would this Marseille-bound flight be the death of me?

As the chap I was wedged against coughed and sneezed his mask awry, I look out of the window and thought about dying

I had hoped we would find the passengers evenly distanced, but here we were packed in as usual like tinned anchovies. Credit: Getty Images/JEFFREY GROENEWEG / Contributor

Already a subscriber? Log in

This article is for subscribers only

Subscribe today to get 3 months' delivery of the magazine, as well as online and app access, for only £3.

  • Weekly delivery of the magazine
  • Unlimited access to our website and app
  • Enjoy Spectator newsletters and podcasts
  • Explore our online archive, going back to 1828

Comments

Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months

Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.

Already a subscriber? Log in